


To Build a Home

by Kallistos



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chef Vinsmoke Sanji, Fighter Zoro, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:36:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kallistos/pseuds/Kallistos
Summary: Sanji's a penniless sous chef at a fancy restaurant, content to coast through life riding whatever high he can find. So what happens when an up-and-coming MMA Fighter starts demanding more from him? Will he run as usual, or will he finally accept what it takes to build a home.
Relationships: Eustass Kid/Trafalgar D. Water Law, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 65
Kudos: 212





	1. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MISSIO’S “Everybody Gets High,” shuffled into a playlist and I was like “holy shit, that’d be an interesting Sanji!” Mix that with the new “Home” cover by Edith Whiskers and my first attempt at a modern day AU was born. So here’s sous chef Sanji, MMA fighter Zoro, and some gratuitous KidLaw because I love them for no discernible reason. 
> 
> Warning: Mention of familial abuse, smoking, drug use, lots o' swearing

“And then he had the audacity to ask me for my damn passport. Like he didn’t believe me!” The red haired woman sipped her cosmo angrily.

“The nerve,” Sanji laced his tone with indignation, “which poor princess were you today?”

“My favorite,” Nami smiled sweetly before putting on her poshest accent, “I’m the impoverished Princess Vivi from the Kingdom of Alabasta, looking for funding to help me overthrow the corrupt usurper and reclaim my throne.”

“And what do I get for helping you out, oh enchanting goddess of my vision?” Sanji played along, planting an enthusiastic kiss on the back of her outstretched hand.

“My hand in marriage and, of course, my deepest, deepest gratitude,” Nami flashed him a look under her lashes, holding the act a moment longer before bursting back into rage, “It works every time. I can’t believe he doubted me. The nerve. Am I getting old and ugly?”

“Of course not, Nami-swan,’ Sanji said congenially, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before turning back to his drink,“you’re the most beautiful con in the game.”

“Of course I am.” Nami preened, wiping an invisible speck of dust off her next season Givenchy dress, delicate oranges embroidered along the hem. It was a spoil from the previous conquest.

“How much did you get off him?” He fingered a pretzel out of the questionably hygienic bowl in front of them.

“Only ten grand and a new Birkin, but not THE Birkin” She gave an exaggerated sigh, “All that work for nothing. He even made me have dinner with him, can you believe it? He’s supposed to be the 4th richest oil baron on the island. This city has really gone down hill. ”

Sanji hummed in sympathy and took another sip from his glass of wine. It was a shitty wine in an even shittier bar.

The bar they usually drank at was about 3 miles north in a part of town with more trees and side streets that didn’t smell like piss. The bar they usually drank at was part of a world renowned restaurant where he was sous chef at, and the only place Nami went to to pick out her next mark. So why they both chose this particular shithole to bitch about their day, well…

“Oh god, they’re ALL here,” Nami rolled her eyes as a sudden burst of cold air brought a cacophony of noise with it. Sanji didn’t bother turning around, though his pulse was already in his throat. Stupid, traitorous thing. “So when are you going to stop dancing around and just make it official already?”

“There’s nothing official about it, we’re just casually fucking that’s all.” He sniffed delicately and reached inside his coat pocket.

Nami shook her head as she watched the shaky hands pull out a cigarette, “Babes, you got it bad. What are you so afraid of? He’s clearly crazy about you too. Speak of the asshat…” Her eyes flicked over his shoulder, smirk dropping into a grimace as an arm draped across Sanji’s shoulders.

“Witch.”

“Asshole,” She positively scowled, “Where’s my fucking money”

“I won that fight fair and square.” Green hair came into his periphery and Sanji let himself be enveloped by the familiar scent of sweat and sandalwood, “Don’t blame me for betting on the loser.’

“You cheated and I know it,” She eyed him viciously as she drained the rest of her drink, “Ussoooooop I need a new passport!! Make me a amazonian queen this time” she called cheerily to another person behind Sanji. They really had brought the whole gang.

Her seat was filled not even a second after she vacated it, flipping the middle finger as she passed.

“Don’t call Nami a witch, she’s a damn swa-“ Sanji stopped when he saw the livid bruise that covered half the man’s face, “what happened?”

“Forgot about that,” Zoro touched his eye with a wince before flashing another grin at Sanji, “you should see the other guy.”

“He better be in the morgue,” Sanji mumbled, making sure to exhale the smoke to the left of him. Zoro was weirdly sensitive to the smell. Something about smoke damaging lungs decreasing physical perfection blah blah blah. Pretty hypocritical coming from a man who could chug a glass of beer in under five seconds, “When’s the next fight?”

“Sunday, against Daz Bones,” Zoro flipped an elbow over his head, using the other arm to reach across and deepen the stretch, “you comin’?” Sanji pointedly avoided ogling the line of taut stomach muscle that appeared.

“Who else is going to make sure you eat beforehand,” Sanji sighed. The first time he stopped by the MMA gym and saw the pile of protein bar wrappers stuffed in Zoro’s locker, Sanji went home and prepped an entire week of healthy meals.

They might still be meandering their way into displays of affection, but Sanji didn’t fuck around with a balanced diet. That next Monday, when the restaurant was closed, Sanji had arrived back at the gym, arms laden with Tupperware containers.

Luffy hotly declared he was the official team nutritionist, Sanji yelled ‘fuck no’ back and somehow found himself returning the next week with more containers and a neatly organized shopping list based on each fighters weight and body type. Before he knew it, he was neatly folded into this rather strange crew of people.

“What’s up?” Zoro’s voice pulled Sanji out of his scattered memories.

“Just thinking about what the weird people I’ve found myself associated with ” Sanji took another sip of wine, grimacing at the overly sweet taste, “and why they insist on frequenting a bar with such shit alcohol.”

“I got some pretty good stuff at my place,” Zoro shot him a wolfish grin. Sanji hid his own smile as he drained the glass.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Sanji threw a wave at Shakky, who gave him an exaggerated wink. She’d put it on his tab. He’d be back.

He slid off the bar stool, absurdly attuned to the presence at his back as he made his way through the crowd of adrenaline junkies, he had his own high to chase.

Sanji panted softly as Zoro rolled off him. He stuck his hand out, searching the end table for the pack of cigarettes he left there. Empty. It had been a rough week.

He reached into the drawer, blindly scrabbling until his hand grasped a lighter he forgot he also left there. Sanji gave a triumphant huff as he finally found a stray cigarette rolling around. When was the last time he had left so much shit at someone else’s place?

 _Never_ , he thought vaguely.

“Shit’ll kill ya,” Zoro’s voice floated from the bathroom.

“Who says I’m tryin to live longer.” Sanji drawled, watching the smoke dissipate against the moonlight. He didn’t turn as he felt the bed dip next to him.

“Bullshit,” a voice whispered over him as fingers pulled the stick out of his mouth. Impossibly soft lips replaced the feel of the cigarette and he swallowed his complaint. Hands found bare skin, and something flared hot and sharp in Sanji’s chest.

Zoro pulled away too soon, and Sanji ignored the disappointment that shot through him as he fished for his hastily discarded underwear.

“I should get going.” Sanji said absentmindedly.

“Thought you didn’t have to go in early tomorrow.” Zoro was watching him from a prone position on the bed.

“Promised Brook I’d make him something for his band practice.”

“Brook?” Zoro mumbled, a cutting tone to his voice that wasn’t there moments ago. Sanji rolled his eyes.

“My roommate. The deadhead with a crazy afro. I’ve told you about him.”

“Deadhead.”

“He’s in a Grateful Dead Tribute band,” Sanji huffed his annoyance as he finished pulling up his dress pants, “Do you remember anything in that pea-sized brain?”

“I remember you’re a chef at some fancy ass restaurant.” He grabbed Sanji’s hands and brought it to his lips, “I remember your birthday is the day after the fights in Dressrosa.” He pressed a soft kiss on the captured fingers, “I remember you like this.” Sanji watched, attention rapt as Zoro captured each individual finger in his mouth, letting his tongue trace designs on the sensitive pads. By the time he reached the pinkie, Sanji was boneless. 

Zoro released the finger with a soft pop, and breath finally returned to Sanji’s lungs, “I remember important things.”

“Uh-huh,” was all Sanji could muster as he let himself be guided back down atop Zoro’s chest. His fingers, still wet, absentmindedly traced the long scar across the man’s torso.

“Sounds like a pain.”

Sanji blinked against the haze that settled over his brain “What?”

“Your roommate,” Zoro shrugged, “you should get a new one.”

“I can’t afford not to have one.” Sanji huffed, trying not to sound more pathetic than he felt, “Restaurant pays shit until I make Head Chef and that’s not happening anytime soon.”

“Well…what if there was a place that was free,” Zoro cleared his throat before shrugging, “I mean you can cook when you want and clean if you felt like it, but you wouldn’t have to ya know…pay rent or anything.”

Sanji felt his eyes narrow as he sat up in bed, “What are you getting at?”

Zoro cleared his throat again, a faint dusting of red settled over his cheeks that Sanji found both equally adorable and irksome.

“Hey,” he punched the muscular shoulder, “explain.”

“Just…ya know…move in here. With me.”

“Are you insane?” Sanji sat up, mouth agape, “I can’t…we couldn’t…We barely know each other?!”

“It’s been almost a year,” Zoro shrugged, “What else is there to know?” Sanji shoved him sharply.

“Plenty” he hissed, “We barely see each other twice a week.”

“I’d see you more if you moved in.” Zoro nodded like that solved everything. Sanji tried to retort but he found himself looking around the studio apartment instead. An old steel mill turned apartment complex, the room had large bay windows overlooking the river, its own washing and dryer and a surprisingly spacious kitchen. Who cared that his own apartment was located a few feet from the restaurant, his stovetop had one burner and a microwave built into the wall. It would be a longer commute, but he could finally save up to buy that pair of knives he wanted and oh shit he could be-

Sanji violently shook his head and looked back at the green haired man. Was he insane? Sure Sanji’d once fucked a dude to use his industrial grade kitchen for a catering gig, but to live with someone? Permanently?

“You’re an idiot,” he finally huffed, rooting around the floor for his dress shirt. He haphazardly buttoned the shirt with shaky fingers as he grabbed for his suit jacket and tie.

Move in with someone like Zoro? Never.

He would bother Sanji into making snacks at all hours of the day. Plus he’d have to clean up the empty sake bottles that almost magically accumulated on every flat surface. The king sized bed would be a pain in the ass to make every morning, especially when they’d so thoroughly mess it up every night. Sanji paused at that.

That part might not be so bad.

No. Moving in with someone you were fucking was a dangerous game that ended with yelling and talking about feelings. Sanji didn’t do feelings.

He finally turned around to face Zoro, unnerved at the silence that had descended throughout the room. Zoro was sitting up, eyes searching when they met Sanji’s.

“What are you freaking out for? Wasn’t a hard question.”

Sanji let out a strangled yell, pushing the scathing retort back down his throat.

“you’re an IDIOT,” he finally spit out as he grabbed the empty carton and lighter out of the end table drawer and stormed out the door.

Sanji swore his teeth were still clenched in annoyance the following evening.

“Chef’s coming.”

Sanji heard the frantic note in Patty’s voice.

“Calm down, idiot,” Sanji rolled his eyes but pressed one nostril closed as he inhaled deeply. He wiped the final traces of white powder off the prep table before carefully dabbing at his nostrils, “get the bleach.”

He made sure to step in front of the large man frantically scrubbing at the table when Zeff clanked in.

Ex-mafioso turned world-class chef, Zeff was a man that demanded respect both in and out of the kitchen.

Sanji sent one more cursory glance over his black suit, already pressed within an inch of its life. Perfect, not a wrinkle in sight, even after a hectic dinner rush. He smugly looked up to see Zeff glaring at him.

“You didn’t put enough saffron in the risotto.” Zeff barked.

A nerve in Sanji’s forehead twitched, feeling the effects of the drug already burning through his system, “I put the perfect amount in, geezer. Your palate’s getting fucked with age.” The busboys nervously shuffled from side to side, but the older line cooks just rolled their eyes.

“Not the only person getting fucked…”

Sanji sent a vicious kick behind him, satisfied by the harsh _oof_.

“I’ll gut ya, ya hear, dumb punk!” Patty pulled a knife from the block, waving it wildly as he stood protectively over Carne, now huddling on the floor.

“SHUT THE HELL UP,” they all turned to see Zeff red faced with rage, “We’re still working here. Patty’s team, start prepping the vegetables for tomorrow, Carne’s team, you better make sure those knives are sharp enough to cut out your own eyeball. Sanji…meet me in my office.” The room descended into a deafening silence, “NOW.” Chaos erupted as Sanji rolled his eyes, following the old man up the polished wooden stairs, and willed his hands to stop shaking.

“I thought I told you to lay off the dust.” Zeff leveled Sanji with a stern look as he collapsed ungracefully in one of the plush chairs. Sanji immediately sat up, anxiety humming loudly in his ear.

“How did y-‘

“Look in the damn mirror.” Zeff pointed to the wall. Sanji nervous looked, flinching slightly at his dilated pupils and the small trickle of blood coming out of his nose.

Fuck.

“It’s been a rough week.” He mumbled, snatching at the outstretched tissue.

“Don’t care about excuses,” Zeff’s stern look was unrelenting, “you’re not going to be in my position still pulling that kind of shit.” Sanji pressed his hands in his knees to keep them from shaking. He didn’t plan for a scolding, he had planned on cleaning the kitchen at a record speed so he could go get wasted with Nami.

“What makes you think I want to be in your shoes, old man.” Sanjji replied sulkily, though they both knew the bluff for what it was. They glared at each other a beat longer, before Zeff released an unusually heavy sigh.

“Trouble back home again?”

“Home.” Sanji laughed, the word even tasted bitter on his tongue. The palatial mansion in the richest part of town, full of war memorabilia and signed photos with dignitaries was not his home. Home was…his small, moldy apartment with its built in microwave flashed through his mind and he felt his shoulders sag, “Home’s are overrated. This shithole restaurant is all I got. ”

“Hn, until you open your own” Zeff grunted noncommittally.

“Like that’s going to happen,” Sanji laughed sourly, “I’m lucky when I have enough money to buy dish soap.”

“Need a loan?”

“I don’t need to be any more in your debt than I already am, old man.”

Sanji’s foot tapping its own erratic beat was the only sound in the room for a few moments.

“What about that boy you’re seeing…Zolo?”

“Zoro,” Sanji corrected hotly, “And we are seeing each other in the literal sense only, stop making shit up, geezer.”

“That where you left your undershirt?”

“It got stained during prep,” Sanji crossed his arms over his chest. Leave it to the geezer to notice dumb shit. Yet another thing he had left at Zoro’s…in the washing machine. No way he was getting it back now, although he couldn’t afford to buy another one… shit.

The Executive Chef didn’t even deign to respond. He pulled his leg up onto the desk table, massaging gently at the beginning of the prosthetic. Sanji swallowed guiltily. Just another thing on the long list of debts he owed the man in front of him.

“Stop with that stupid face.” Zeff looked at him gruffy.

“What can I do?” Sanji finally asked, voice quiet.

“Get your shit together.”

“I’m fine,” Sanji groaned, scratching his hands over his face, “What do you want me to do? I already get here first, leave here last.”

“This ain’t about the restaurant, kid.” Zeff’s voice was tired, more than Sanji had ever heard, “What do you want from life?”

Want? Sanji looked up at him, puzzled. He’d know Zeff for almost fifteen years. They yelled, they fought, they drank together. Feelings, though? Neither did that so well. Sanji had somehow crawled out of the black hole of grief after his mother died and decided that emotions were altogether too much trouble.

Coke and whisky were far better for that kind of shit.

“I want to cook for people…” he answered truthfully, but the words sat heavy in the air between them.

“Cooking’s more than skill, you know that, and home ain’t just a place you rest your head. You need that extra thing that makes you open your eyes in the morning.”

“And what would that be? Oxygen?” Sanji drawled, waiting for a moment before adding,“if you say ‘love’ I’m going to vomit all over your desk.”

“Fuck off and bleach that kitchen top to bottom. Next time I see you snorting up on my prep table, I’m going to cut your damn nose off.”

“Yes chef.” Sanji could never tell when Zeff was joking or not, but he decided today was not the day to figure out.

The words mocked him as he stood up. Home, home, home.

It was a bitter word with a bitter history. Sanji didn’t see that changing any time soon.

“Broooook?” Sanji stumbled through the door with a drunken howl. Where was the skinny bastard and why was the apartment drunk…dark? “Did you forget to pay the electric bill again?”

“Really, Sanji, do you live in this sad excuse for a dumpster?”

Sanji turned at the familiar voice, adrenaline suddenly taking the edge off his high .

“What are you doing here, Reiju.” He felt for the light switch. Harsh fluorescence cast shadows over his pink haired sister, perched elegantly on his rickety kitchen table.

“Dad needs you home.”

The word brought hot bile to Sanji’s throat. He willed the room to stop spinning so he could shove his sister back out the door.

“I thought dad never wanted to see ‘that queer fag’ ever again.” Sanji didn’t bother hiding the acid in his voice.

“Don’t hold such grudges, Sanji,” Reiju waved her hand nonchalantly, “He’s willing to forgive and forget.” Sanji felt the headache bloom as he grit his teeth.

“On what condition?” He spit out, managing to pull out a chair at the table before attempting to drop into it. Reiju had the decency not to laugh when his ass missed. He landed on the hard linoleum with an unforgiving thud.

“What ever do you mean?” Her eyes widened in fake surprise. She always was the worst actress of the five of them.

“Dad seemed pretty unforgiving last time I tried to visit.” Sanji bit out, leaning an elbow on the chair seat, like he had meant to sit on the floor all along.

“That was almost eight years ago, you were seventeen and going on and on about some boy you were in love with. In front of the Ambassador from Fishman Island no less.” Raiju gave an exasperated sigh, “What did you expect him to say?”

“I’ve never expected anything from him.” Sanji fished around his pockets for a loose cigarette, lighting it with shaking fingers.

“Well he expects something from you, Sanji,”

“Of course he does,” he muttered, “spit it out already and leave so I can continue drinking in peace.” Raiju pursed her lips for a moment, a look that could almost be considered concern passed over her face. She gave an elegant shrug and closed her eyes.

“We need an alliance with Big Mom.”

“The arms dealer?” Sanji’s eyes popped open again.

“She keeps shooting down our supply planes. War is coming, Sanji, and we need those troops in the southern outposts.” Raiju continued on, speaking louder to cover Sanji’s disbelieving scoff, “It’s an unconventional request, sure, but not a hardship really. Her daughter is quite beautiful, you’re very lucky,” Raiju nodded to herself with a smile, “all you need to do is sign the marriage papers. What you choose to do behind closed door is your own business, father doesn’t even care-“

“Get out.” Sanji was practically spitting as he shakily got to his feet. The alcohol was eating at his stomach and rage clouded his vision. His father couldn’t turn him into one of his mindless military robot siblings, so he was going to pawn him off at the first sign of profit.

“He’ll give you the money to open your own fancy restaurant.” Raiju added.

“Get out.” The words came out of his mouth before he could even comprehend what she said.

“You’d have to go live with Big Mom, of course, but she’s already agreed to help you start the business. She’s been looking for another front in the city.” Raiju’s smile looked more like a grimace, “isn’t that what you always wanted, Sanji?”

“Get out,” he repeated again, but it lacked all the previous venom as her words finally made it through his haze. She knew exactly how much he wanted it. She was the one who would pat him on the head and listen to him cry after his brothers beat the shit out of him. It had been the dream that made him take another breath through broken ribs, open his swollen eyes.

She knew exactly what to tell their father to get Sanji to do what they wanted. 

He almost hated her for it.

“Think about it, brother,” she sighed before walking to the door, “I’ll come back around in a week. This offer does have a time stamp.”

He felt himself slide down to the floor again. He tried to block out the thoughts threatening to drown him, but it was no use.His own restaurant. That was the dream, a far distant dream that he never gave much thought to because it was so farfetched. Now that it was within his grasp, ideas began bombarding him.

He knew where Big Mom lived. She had been a thorn in his father’s pristine military record since Sanji could remember. It was a beautiful part of the world, lush jungles, teaming with undiscovered flavors. Zeff once received a shipment of grapes that tasted like cotton candy, they made a trifle that was still the most asked for dessert on the menu. Even in the city, he could do so much with the natural ingredients that lay not even a mile down the road.

Zeff’s words came back into his head _“What do you want in this life?”_

He wanted a restaurant, that much he knew. He could make a home with a girl he didn’t care about for that, couldn’t he? It was better than any place he could think of here.

Green hair and a bright smile flashed through his mind.

He curled into himself, pulling his knees to his chest like he had done so many times as a child, hiding from his brother’s abuse. Zoro wasn’t a home. He was just another warm body. Whatever girl he’d marry would be just as good, he was sure of it.

Still.

Sanji hadn’t spoken to Zoro since he stormed out of the apartment, but he had made a promise and that’s how he found himself pacing in Kid’s locker room, just him and some bikini clad model. She seemed very nervous about her make up, clearly having missed the memo that no one would be looking at her face.

“I’ll just see his fight, then tell him goodbye. Easy, done.” Sanji muttered to himself as he grazed his fingers over the locker doors. His mind was already far ahead, on a conversation he was dreading having with Nami. She was going to tell him exactly how dumb she thought he was being.

“Don’t look so worried, Sanji-ya. Zoro’s a good fighter,”

Sanji turned to see the team doctor amble into the room. He was dressed in his uniform of black dress pants and a black button down, his signature white spotted hat sat jauntily on his raven-hair.

“Law,” Sanji gave him a distracted nodded, “Heard the guy he’s fighting dropped crazy weight to join the Middleweight class.”

“Yea,” Law looked thoughtful for a moment, “He lost the Heavyweight title, so his coach is trying a new tactic.”

“Lost it to Kid, didn’t he?” Sanji huffed a laugh before pulling out a cigarette.

“Barely,” Law snorted, but Sanji didn’t miss the small smile, “Kid somehow scraped together more body shots, even though Bones managed to dislocate his shoulder.” Sanji gave a brief shudder.

“I don’t know how you put up with it.” He blew the smoke towards the vent

Law eye’d the smoke sharply before taking a seat on one of the benches, “you’ll get used to it.”

“BABE” a voice boomed down the hallway and Law rolled his eyes.

“Is he talking to me?”

Both men turned to see the petite pink haired girl, a tube of lipstick clutched tightly in her hands, stare at them hopefully. She was clad in the same black bikini that all ring girls were required to wear, hair teased to the high heavens and lashes weighed down with too much mascara.

“I don’t think so…” Sanji’s response was lost as an impossibly large man entered the locker room. Fiery red hair, loud giraffe print fighting shorts and his signature purple lip tint, Eustass Kid had the ability to unnerve his opponents before he even stepped into the octagon.

“Hey.” the girl smoothly stepped in his path, smile bright.

Kid barely spared her a glance as he walked past. Seeing her opportunity to fuck a star athlete fade with every step, the girl made the unfortunate mistake of grabbing his hand.

Kid stopped at the sudden contact, staring at her hand holding his for a moment before traveling up, over her bare stomach and barely there top. Her growing smile froze once he locked eyes with her.

“Who the fuck are you?” The look of absolute contempt made even Sanji recoil. The girl snatched her hand back like she had been burned, tears of embarrassment and anger already crowding in the corner of her eyes.

"ASSHOLE"

“Eustass-ya,” Law gave an bored sigh, “apologize.”

“The fuck do I need to apologize for, she’s in my fucking way,” He continued stalking towards the raven-haired man, ignoring the clatter of heels as the girl raced from the room, “Aren’t you ringside for my fight?”

“I told you. I can’t play doctor for you anymore. Conflict of interest.” Law leaned back and flashed a toothy grin, “little do they know I’m cheering for the other guy. Your ego could always do with a good bashing.”

“Fucker,” Kid’s mouth finally turned up into a grin as he pulled Law into a harsh kiss.

Sanji looked away, face burning in embarrassment as he heard a soft laugh drift by him. He was about to follow the girl out the door when Kid’s voice interrupted him.

“Moss head is in the other locker room, why’s the blonde here?” Kid grunted.

“The blonde,” Sanji enunciated with annoyance, still facing away from the display of intimacy, “Doesn’t feel like talking to that marimo right now.”

“That why he looks like someone pissed in his coffee, oof-“

“It’s safe to turn around, Sanji,” Law murmured as he shoved Kid to the other side of the bench, “though I admit I’m also curious.”

Sanji debated leaving, he didn’t really want to hash out all his problems, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get someone else’s opinion? Even though he was leaving this trashpit city and never looking back. 

He was definitely leaving.

“He asked me to move in with him.” Sanji blurted out, turning to see equal looks of surprise on Law and Kid’s face.

“HA” Kid finally released a sharp laugh, “finally ready to be a kept bitch, huh.”

“I’m not a kept anything,” Sanji fumed, even as Law sent a pointed kick to Kid’s side. Kid blocked it easily, grabbing the foot and dragging until Law was half on his lap.

“Nothing wrong with it,” Kid grunted capturing the fist flying at his face, “What’s the problem?”

“We don’t know each other well enough. I don’t know anything about his family, or dreams or any of that sappy shit,” Sanji said hotly as he paced “Plus I-I just don’t do homes.” 

“You’re fucking though?” Kid asked cautiously after a moment.

“Yes, Kid, we are fucking.” Sanji hissed through gritted teeth. He wasn’t sure if his face could get any redder.

“What else do you want?” Law drawled slowly. Sanji looked between the two, real confusion on both of their faces.

“Should have known better than to expect sanity from you people.” Sanji muttered.

“I don’t do homes either, not the physical kind. Bounced through the foster care system enough to know,” Kid added letting his fingers curl through Law’s, “home is wherever he is.”

Sanji felt his heart drop out of his chest and he stuttered for a moment before he found the right words, “That’s dumb. A home is a place. With four walls and stupid wallpaper and people who expect you to care about them because you share the same blood,” Sanji swallowed harshly, willing the stinging at his eyes to disappear, “Fucking dumb.” He turned around sharply and marched back out towards the arena.

“Do you have…goals?” Law’s voice drifted by.

“Yea. Win fights and fuck you senseless.”

Sanji covered his ears with his hands. They were all insane.

“Are you alright, Sanji?”

“Fine, Robin, thank you for asking.” He threw a glance at the elegant black haired woman sitting next to him. He wasn’t sure what he did to get the gym owner’s wife interested in him, but they bonded talking about ancient grains found in an archeological dig she was researching. Sanji brought her a quinoa soufflé and she made sure to save him a seat next to her at every fight.

“This will be a difficult fight for Zoro-kun.” Robin hummed softly as she texted, “But I would not be too worried.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Sanji’s hands itched to pull out another cigarette, but no smoking allowed. Bullshit, he mumbled before flagging over a man selling beer, “Would you like a beer, Robin?” She gave a small nod, and soon they were both sipping their drinks, eyes roving over the rapidly filling stadium.

“Will you be going to Dressrosa then?”

“I’m not sure…” Sanji sighed, Zoro had mentioned it a few times, but Sanji never committed, careful to avoid anything that might create more expectations.

“It’s a great coup to be competing in the Coliseum. It will be very good for his career. ” Robin smiled at him, “I will be on an excavation, unfortunately. Someone will have to be there to make sure he shows up at the right place. If he wins this match that is. ”

“Luffy can help him, he already won his lightweight division, didn’t he? I’m sure Kid will win as well,” Sanji picked at the label on his bottle, “He doesn’t need me there.”

“Luffy can barely keep track of himself, and I’m sure Kid will be distracted with other things. Our doctor is planning on coming after all,” She gave a soft laugh before turning to him, “Zoro needs you more than you think.”

“I doubt that,” Sanji hummed.

“He’s not very good at words, that one. He never rushes a decision, or makes a rash move under pressure. He’s uncannily level headed in even the most stressful of situations,” Robin nodded to herself, “that’s what makes him such a good fighter. When he does act, it’s very deliberate. He’s quite unstoppable when he puts his mind to something.” Sanji knew they weren’t talking about fighting anymore, and he felt the heat rise against his neck.

“I…I might need to leave Robin.” Sanji confessed haltingly. She met his eyes, blinking once before turning away.

“A shame.” She smiled softly, “He’s become a much better fighter with you around. You bring something out in him. Where will you go?”

“I can’t tell you…” he finished lamely. He never told Robin about his family, but somehow she understood more than he let on. She nodded once.

“Of course, Sanji-kun. Well I would tell Zoro sooner rather than later.” She sighed, glancing at the clock, ten minutes to go before the fight began.

“Why?” Unease gnawed at him.

“He requested a few weeks off training after he competes in Dressrosa, if he wins that is. He mentioned using the money to shop for a new home. One with a large kitchen,” Robin gave him a small smile, “I believe he was going to surprise you for your birthday but…the choice is yours, Sanji-kun.” Sanji felt the muscles of his legs clench and he was up and out of his seat in minutes, storming to the locker room with a determined stride.

He pushed past the line of cameras and bikini clad girls. By the time he made it to the figure hunched over a bench, he was practically heaving.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” His voice was louder than he meant, and suddenly every eye in the room was on him.

“Sanjiiiii” Luffy gave an overly enthusiastic wave.

“He looks upset,” Chopper whispered, fretting at the ice packs in his hands.

“Sanji-broo,” Franky waved congenially, “good to see ya, but we’re about to get out there. Can it wait until the after party?”

“I just…yea, of course. Sorry,” He turned to go, indignation fizzling out almost as quickly as it overtook him. He should go. He needed to leave.

“Wait,”

A hand grabbed at his wrist, the familiar smell of sweat and sandalwood made his pause.

“Do what?” Zoro asked, voice unreadable.

“I didn’t ask you to get a new house with a giant kitchen.” Sanji hissed, turning to meet Zoro’s surprised gaze.

“I thought that’s why you didn’t want to move in?” Zoro answered, red dusting his cheeks as he nervously looked to the side,“you kept looking at it angrily.”

“It wasn’t about the damn kitchen, it was about you!” Sanji answered hotly

“What’s wrong with me?!”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Sanji yelled, huffing as the room descended in a surprise silence, “nothing is wrong with you.” He repeated the words, softer this time, as the truth of it washed over him.

“Zoro…bud we gotta go,” Franky threw Sanji a nervous look before patting the fighter on the shoulder.

“One second,” Zoro responded, never taking his eyes off the blond in front of him, “Then why are you so upset?

“I don’t know,” Sanji answered truthfully.

“Idiot” Zoro gave a soft laugh, “We’ll talk after, ok?”

There would be no after. Sanji should just leave and call his sister and get it all over with. He’s marry some rich bitch, get his own restaurant, never see the man in front of him again and oh-

Zoro stunned him out of his reverie with a insistent press of lips against his. Fingers found their way up a familiar path and into his hair. Sanji felt a small moan bubble in his throat as he returned the kiss with a ferocity that came from the very core of his being. They broke apart quickly, but Sanji could already feel the stupid smile curling on his lips.

Oh. Warmth flooded through him as some long dormant emotion came to claw at his throat.

Damnit, wait. He watched Zoro’s turn, the bruises from the nails he had dug into that back had almost faded.

He wasn’t ready to give this up yet.

“Wait,” Sanji grabbed his hand, the word falling from his mouth before he could take it back

“I gotta go kick this guys ass, but we’ll figure out the rest out at home, ‘k?” Zoro returned the gentle squeeze.

Home.

“You better fucking win.” Sanji’s words were a whisper, but damn it if he didn’t mean every syllable,

“Planning on it.” Zoro’s smile was like the sun as Franky pulled open the doors.

Sanji felt Luffy throw an arm over his shoulder, as Chopper flanked his other side.

“C’mon let’s go watch Zoro crush this guy!” Luffy laughed, “then can we get fooood, I’m starving. Sanji, sanjiiiii make me a steak?!”

“Sure,” Sanji heard himself say, “When we get home.”

 _Home is wherever I’m with him_. The thought curled like a small flame in his stomach.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad word after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was conceived as a one shot, but this world ended up being pretty intriguing. I'm down to write more, so let me know what you think in the comments. Thanks for reading!


	2. The Beginning - Fistfight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to go forward, we have to step back into the past.  
> Before there was talk of a shared apartment and a pressing decision to make, Sanji and Zoro had their own meet-cute that went about as smoothly as one could expect from these idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist: "Fistfight" by The Ballroom Thieves and "Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene" by Hozier.  
> Thank you all for the encouraging comments and kudos! Inspiration hit and I decided to continue with this world. This chapter takes place 1 year before the events of "Home".  
> Warning: Mention of familial abuse, sexy times, smoking, drug use, lots o' swearing
> 
> Enjoy!

**One year and 2 months earlier**

“C’mon man, it was just a joke-“

A vicious kick to the ribs interrupted the breathless plea.

“Ha, ha. Look, I’m laughing,” The sarcastic voice drawled, words mumbled around a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Fucker,” the man on the ground coughed again, his stringy black hair trailing through the nameless muck on the alleyway floor. He gave another wet cough before his eyes caught on someone in the alley entrance, “Zoro! Zoro man, help. This crazy dude just started beating the fuck outta me.”

“Huh?” Sanji’s eyebrow quirked up in confusion, turning too late to see a fist flying at his face, “fuck.” He barely managed to dodge, grimacing as knuckles grazed his cheek.

“Yea, fucking get him!” The man on the ground jeered as Sanji stumbled backwards, bringing his arms up in a loose guard. He blinked and another fist was flying towards his head. He bobbed, sending a sharp jab to the attacker's stomach. He was blocked almost instantaneously, but he used the momentum to send a roundhouse to the mans now exposed side.

He was rewarded with a sharp grunt. It was a short lived triumph, though, as the man wrapped an arm around his leg, pulling up sharply and sending Sanji flying to the ground. Sanji managed to land another kick to the man’s knee, but it did nothing but send the man falling to the ground after him.

They scrabbled for a few minutes, a flurry of hands trying to vie for control, but Sanji had always preferred fighting on his feet. He soon found himself breathless and on his back, the man named Zoro straddling atop him, one forearm pressed firmly into his windpipe.

Sanji glowered at the man atop him as light from a setting sun danced over short green hair, highlighting cut cheekbones and unreadable black eyes. Sanji’s gaze travelled over the the arm pressed against his throat, taking note of the coil of defined muscle under a too tight white shirt, the start of a tattoo peaking out from underneath the sleeve.

Shit. Something broken in Sanji’s brain whispered that at least he was going to die underneath an absolute snack. He willed the inopportune rush of lust away.

“Kill ‘im Zoro,” the stringy haired man cackled from where he had crawled to prop himself against the wall, “make him fucking bleed for what he did.”

“What I did?!” Sanji managed a few broken words even with the pressure against his throat, “you’re the one who called me a _fag_.”

“Hn?” The husky baritone sound vibrated through Sanji, as black eyes swirled to stare at the man pressed against the wall, “that true, Caribou?”

“No!” Caribou nervously shook his head, swiping at his nose with his too long sleeve, “I swear. I was just asking him for a…a cigarette! And he came on to me, ya know, touched my arm and shit. ‘Course I had to defend myself.”

“Fuck off,” Sanji scrabbled at the arm on top of him, glaring as viciously as he could muster at the black haired man, “I wouldn’t touch you with anythinglighter than a steel pipe.” Sanji practically gasped as the pressure was lifted from his throat. He gave a few weak coughs before looking up at the black eyes staring down at him, brow furrowed in concentration. “Don’t hurt yourself thinking,” Sanji added sourly, lack of nicotine adding an extra layer of annoyance to his tone, “your friend’s a piece of garbage who needs to learn to keep his hands to himself.” Sanji pointed angrily to his open dress shirt where the buttons had very clearly been ripped off.Zoro looked over him for a moment longer, gaze lingering a little too long on the exposed strip of pale chest. Sanji tried to control his expression, but his heartbeat was in his throat

“He’s not my friend,” Zoro finally muttered before pushing off the ground, and air rushed back into Sanji’s lungs.

He couldn’t help the involuntary shiver as Zoro walked towards the man now crawling away from them. It was like watching a tiger stalking it’s prey, all coiled anger and the faintest hint of a smile.

“Hey,” Zoro placed a foot on the trailing sleeve, as Caribou winced, “I ever see you around the gym again, I’ll break your fingers.”

“C’mon man, you can't actually believe what that puss-“

Sanji felt bile rise in his throat at the tell tale snap of fragile bones. Sanji could withstand most beatings, but just the idea of injuring his hands had him nauseous. No way he could open his own restaurant with a mangled dominant hand. He curled his hands to his chest instinctually.

The shrill scream morphed into a guttural whimper as Zoro removed his foot from the rapidly swelling hand. “You’re going to regret ever messing with me, ya here.“ The threat seemed even weaker as Carbiou shakily rose, hand cradled against his chest. “I’ll fuck you up, ya hear.” He walked backwards a few steps, glare still leveled at the silent green haired fighter.

He turned to Sanji with one last glower and spit on the ground, “faggot.” He was turning around running out the entrance before Sanji could open his mouth.

“Asshole” he mumbled, grabbing a cigarette from his coat pocket. It took a few tries to steady his hands long enough the light the end. He didn’t look up when he heard the crunch of gravel under black combat boots.

“You ok?”

“Peachy,” Sanji quipped, taking a longer than usual drag, “thanks for the assist. Could have done without the first half though.”

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the voice above him grunted. Sanji just shrugged, willing the tremors in his hands to stop.

He also willed himself to keep his eyes on the ground. No need to continue ogling the muscular, violent and emotionally detached man, even if he was exactly Sanji’s type.

“-drink?”

“Huh?” Sanji looked up, startled to see the man standing not a foot away, glaring at some poor brick in the wall, “I-I’m sorry I didn’t here what you said.” Zoro scratched at his nose for a moment before inhaling deeply.

“Can I buy you a drink?” The words came out in such a rush that it took Sanji a second to decipher them.

What?

Did the green haired idiot really just snap a dudes fingers and then ask him for a drink? Obviously the answer was-

A breathy “sure,” fell from his lips before he even realized it.

“Cool,” the smile that spread wide across Zoro’s face was almost as surprising as the initial question. It did weird things to Sanji’s stomach that he poignantly ignored. He accepted the hand stretched out to him, pulling himself to his feet with a slight wince.

“Damn, are you forearms made of rock or something,” Sanji massaged his trachea, swallowing against the bruise he knew was beginning to form there.

“Sorry.” Zoro had the good sense to look chagrinned, “usually that’s my finishing move.”

“Finishing move? What are you, some tv wrestler or something?” Sanji huffed a laugh, "got your own sparkly spandex and shit?"

“Mixed martial artist, actually.” Zoro said casually, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Oh, shit, really?” Sanji’s eyes widened as he looked over the man’s clothes for the first time. The black pants had a logo of a lion head atop a cross-bone, the words “Thousand Sunny MMA” printed down the side.

“Yea,” Zoro wrinkled his nose at the smoke coming from Sanji’s cigarette.

“What? The big bad fighter can’t handle a little smoke?” Sanji smirked even as he blew the smoke into the empty part of the alley.

“It’s bad for you,” the small pull at Zoro’s lips could only be construed as a pout, and Sanji couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his own lips.

“I’ll make a note,” he answered blithely, but inhaled once more before grinding the ashy end into the brick wall. He pocketed the crumpled end and looked up to see Zero staring at him strangely, “what? Nothing so uncouth as a litterer.”

That seemed to be the cherry on top of the absurd sundae, because the green haired fighter burst into laughter, with Sanji dissolving soon after. Soon they were both bent over, wheezing laughter fueled by the adrenaline still coursing through their body. 

“C’mon, bar’s right around the corner.”Zoro finally shook his head, still chuckling as he turned, “Least I could do for kicking the shit outta you.”

“Hardly,” Sanji snorted, even as he followed after, “I’ll take you on again any day shit-fighter.”

“Shit-fighter huh,” Zoro snorted amiably as he loosely wrapped an arm around Sanji’s neck, “We can go again any time.”

“Watch the suit, neanderthal,” Sanji hissed as he sent a sharp elbow to the other mans ribs. They broke apart quickly, and Sanji already missed the strange warmth that seemed to follow every point of contact.

“Here we are,” Zoro wasn’t kidding when he meant around the corner. Sanji took one look at the dilapidated sign “Shakky’s Rip Off-Bar” and nearly shuddered.

“You expect me to drink in this crap bar?” Sanji eyed the room full of equally rowdy looking patrons.

“The owner’s a good friend of the guy who runs our gym,” Zoro shrugged, “doesn’t care if we break a few chairs now and then.”

“Hm. If there’s anyone in there like that guy Caribou, I think I’ll pass,” Sanji started to turn around when a hand grabbed at his arm.

“He was new,” Zoro’s face was suddenly thunderous, “My crew isn’t anything like that. You’re safe here.”

“Safe, mh?” Sanji felt a strange flutter in the pit of his stomach as Zoro stuffed his hands back into the pockets of his black jogger.

He really should go home and put ice on the bruise blooming on his side, but there was something about the electricity that flit between himself and the green haired man with the honest smile. Sanji had never felt anything quite like it, someone who could keep up with him in a fight and match his verbal banter? Half of him wanted to run the fuck away, the other half…

“Is a bar packed with you ‘crew’ really the best place to buy me an apology drink?” He kept his gaze trained on the patrons, eyes catching on a skinny black haired boy with a too wide smile and a straw hat hanging off a screaming mountain of a man with flaming red hair.

“I got some good stuff at my place,” Zoro’s eyes were like fire when they met his and Sanji felt the answering smirk play on his lips.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Sanji barely remembered the walk to Zoro’s apartment, just the small sparks that scorched his skin every time their hands brushed. They were walking up stairs and pushing through a heavy door, but all Sanji saw was a smile that promised a release to the adrenaline churning deep in his stomach.

Sanji had barely taken a sip of the unfiltered sake pressed into his hands before they were falling on each other like men possessed.

Lips found his, hands dragged at the back of his neck. He let his neck arch into the hard grip, let fingernails find their way into the small of his back, let hot kisses trail down the exposed skin. His own hands were busy pulling up the hem of a sweatshirt, barely breaking the kiss as they quickly divested each other of clothes.

Before he knew it, he was blindly following Zoro’s touch, letting strong, confident fingers dictate the pace. He didn’t have a choice, it was like Zero demanded all of him and he couldn’t find the strength to resist it. Every bite against his hips, ever finger working him open spoke of a need that left Sanji breathless.

It was messy and transcendent and oh god.

He threw his head back, releasing a filth moan as he clung to muscles tightly bunched in his hands.

“Fuck,” Zoro met him with one final thrust and Sanji almost bit his tongue as the shudders wracked through him. Lips found their way back to his, stealing the rest of his breath. He swore time had stopped with every stuttered heartbeat.

“Damn,” he finally huffed when they broke apart, glazed eyes trailing over the body now slumped against him.

Three long gold earring rustled quietly, the only noise besides their own labored breathing, in strange dichotomy to their previous ferocity.

It hadn't been the most gentle sex of his life, Sanji winced as he shifted his hips slightly. There was an odd delicacy, however, in the way Zoro now cradled Sanji’s head into his shoulder, letting his hands wrap loosely in soft blonde hair. It was a casual intimacy that sent Sanji’s mind spinning.

His eyes caught on the tattoo that adorned the upper half of Zoro’s arm. A skull holding a sword in its mouth, two swords crossed behind it like bones, “You some sort of pirate?” Sanji playfully rubbed a thumb over the crudely drawn black bandana.

He received a loud snore in response and the vein in his forehead twitch.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, idiot,” His not-so-soft jab to the green-haired man’s ribs only made Zoro snore louder. “Can’t believe he fucking…oof, wasn’t this heavy a minute ago,” he mumbled as he pushed the dead weight off him, all post-orgasm pleasantries dissipating. Zoro just gave an inelegant snort before resuming his snore.

Sanji slid off the bed with an surprisedhuff.

Well, shit.

He should take it as a compliment and a gift. No awkward small talk, or exchanging numbers to pretend he’d call. He could just get his shit and run out the door. So what if it was the best sex he’d had in months, possibly years.

He was already furiously texting Nami with one hand as he shoved on his clothes. It was only 9pm, the best clubs didn’t even open for another few hours. He had time to get home, shower and get a solid pregame buzz before he got back out there.

He was halfway to the door when he heard a loud growl.

“Round two already?” Sanji plastered on a cocky grin as he turned around to see the fighter leveling him with a bleary look.

“Hungry,” he muttered, clutching his stomach tightly, “Haven’t eaten since before practice.”

“What are you going to make?” Sanji cursed his bleeding heart curiosity as he shifted to face the man. He tried to ignore how good Zoro looked with just a thin navy blue sheet draped over his waist. Fucking unfair.

“Dunno…got some fish in the fridge.” Zoro looked at him, frown tugging at his lips as he finally took in the fully clothed blonde standing two feet from the door, “Leaving?”

“Just fish?” Sanji ignored the question. He tried to stifle the compulsion, but his brain was already reeling through possible recipes..

“Uh. Maybe? Some frozen vegetables too. I was just going to throw them in the microwave or something…why?” Zoro trailed off as he noticed the murderous look creeping on Sanji’s face.

“We don’t microwave fish,” Sanji practically spat as the coat fell from his hands onto the back of a chair. Clubs be damned, he had never once in his life ignored a person who was hungry, “I’ll see what I can salvage.” He ignored the grin spreading across Zoro’s face as he marched towards the refrigerator.

To his credit, Zoro did try to help once he got his joggers back on, unfortunately Sanji stumbled upon his last attempt at dinner. The chef took one sniff of the unidentifiable meat in the bowl and leveled Zoro with an evil look.

“You’re a culinary menace. Pour me another drink and fuck off.”

So Zoro sat at the small kitchen table drinking sake and watched as Sanji turned a day old baked fish, frozen broccoli and and slightly squishy sweet potato into a culinary masterpiece.

“Good?” Sanji asked, foot tapping against the leg of the table in uncharacteristic nervousness. He blamed it on the lack of cigarettes, his last a now crumpled mess in his pocket.

Zoro just grunted in response as he mixed the stew with the rice and shoveled it into his mouth. Sanji wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“You eat like a barbarian too,” he drily laugh.

“You weren’t complaining an hour ago.” Zoro flashed him a smirk between bites of food. Sanji felt the heat creep up his neck.

“It would have tasted better if you had some sea salt and rosemary,” he continued with a sigh.

“s’fine"

“Just fine?” Sanji tried stifle a sharp pang of irritation. It’s not like he derived his entire sense of self worth from his culinary skills or anything.

Not at all.

“Food’s food.” Zoro gave a noncommittal shrug as he downed another glass of sake.

“Yea? And I’m sure all fighting's the same, right.” Sanji challenged with a feral smile, “I've heard MMA is just a bastardization of true martial arts.” Zoro sent a cutting look his way before shrugging again.

“All depends on the fighter. Not every form is fit for every body,” Zoro replied before flashing another look over Sanji, “Where’d you train?” Sanji felt a jolt of panic rush through him.

“What do you mean?” Sanji responded too quickly, leg bouncing even more violently than before. Memories of a large hand leaving fingerprint shaped bruises in his arms rose up.

“Carbiou wasn’t a bad fighter,” Zoro said levelly, “So how’d a chef at some fancy restaurant beat the shit outta him?” So he wasn’t as dumb as he thought. Sanji took a minute to breath before answering.

“Shitty childhood,” He gave a casual smile, trailing his fingers along the rim of the empty sake cup.

“Fought a guy with combos like yours once before,” Zoro sniffed, “said he was in some mercenary branch of the military.”

Sanji’s heart clenched too tightly, this was veering dangerously into personal. He had spent his life running from the memories of his family, no fucking way it was going to catch up with him now.

“Well, it’s been fun,” he drawled, standing up quickly, “but I think I’ve stayed long enough.”

“Hn?” Zoro finally looked up, stark black eyes meeting his, strands of sweat-soaked hair still clung to his forheard.

Warning bells went off in Sanji's head. He had come here for a fun time, and now that it was no longer fun, it was time to go. There was no time to give in to the small voice begging him to push sweaty strands out of intense black eyes and relearn the taste of hot sake on full lips.

“See you around.” He went to push off the table, but a hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Why are you leaving?” Zoro’s eyes were unreadable.

“We did the thing, didn’t we?” Sanji gave an ambivalent shrug as he tried to shake off the tight grasp, “What else do you want.” Zoro pulled back his hand like he touched a burning stove.

“Are you _shitting_ me?” Zoro’s face twisted with anger and maybe hurt, but Sanji couldn’t tell because those same emotions were already bubbling under his skin.

“Are _you_ shitting _me_?!” He spit back, “you almost suffocated me in a dirty alley, then you apologized with a drink. Done.”

“Then what’s this?” Zoro pointed to the food half finished on his plate.

“Thank you for a good fuck?” Sanji gave a half shrug as he picked up his coat, trying to hide how shaky his hands were. He really needed that fucking cigarette.

“Wasn’t a transaction,” Zoro dropped the fork suddenly, glowering at the blonde.

“No, it was just some fun, don’t be so dramatic about it.” Sanji mumbled, picking at a loose thread.

“Whatever,” Zoro crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, head turned firmly to the side. Sanji had no idea why the green haired man was taking this so poorly. This was what Sanji always did.

“Look, um…Zoro,” Sanji wasn’t sure why he was stalling, or why it felt so important that Zoro also didn’t care, that they both laugh it off and wave congenially. That Sanji still be allowed to skate over the sort of desires that loomed just under the surface, threatening to drown him. “I just don’t do this,” he waved his hand between them, “I usually just…ya know...leave.”

“That’s dumb,” Zoro muttered, more to himself. Sanji ran his hand through his hair in agitation. He needed a smoke, shower and a stiff drink. He needed to turn around and walk out the door and not look back.

He stood there for a few more indecisive heartbeats.

“Here,” he finally sighed, breaking the silence as he picked up Zoro’s phone. Wasn’t even locked, Sanji scoffed. A dumb, naive, sexy idiot. He tapped quickly before placing the phone back on the table, “Just…text me or something if you need.”

“What could I need from you?” Zoro’s tone was icy as he turned back finally to stare at Sanji.

“Just text me, ok.” It was Sanji’s turn to look away, “later.” He waved his hands in a curt salute and stomped out to door.

Zoro never texted.

Days turned into weeks and Sanji fell back into the same sort of rhythm: work, party with Nami, recover. Rinse, repeat.

“Drink, bitch,” Nami laughed, raising her flaming shot glass in the air before pounding it. Sanji followed her lead, shuddering heavily as the whisky burned down his throat.

“Fuck ‘im,” Sanji yelled.

“Are you still going on about that kung-fu dude?” Nami rolled her eyes, setting down her shot glass with a messy clang, “how good was the sex?!”

“So goood,” Sanji drunkenly slurred, “he’s cursed me.”

“You haven’t gotten laid in a month?!” Nami’s howling laughter cut through the thumping bass of the music, “a new record.”

“Fuck off,” he gave a too hard shove, and they collapsed on the club booth in a messy tangle of limbs. He gave an overly content sigh as he nestled his face against Nami’s push-up bra, “I love these.”

“You’re not that desperate are you?” Nami’s voice was casual, but the memory of their fumbled attempts at sex a few years ago still left them nauseous. They had been drunk and horny, barely out of their teenage years and still figuring themselves out. Nami realized she had a thing for yelling degrading commands, Sanji…decidedly not. He’d had enough of that in his fucked up childhood.

Turned out to work wonders on absurdly wealthy businessmen. They fell over themselves to take her out to dinners where she spent the entire time ripping them a new asshole. They fucking ate it up, showering her with so many gifts she had to rent out a storage unit (which one of the men still pays for).Sanji once told her he should get a cut of some of her profits seeing as how he helped her discover that particularly lucrative kink. Her outraged screams still haunted his nightmares.

“As enchanting as you are, Nami-swan, I am content with this” Sanji exhaled his cigarettes as he lay there, “Besides, I don’t really feel like fucking anyone else right now, ya know?"

“No.” She said bluntly, “You should just text him,” she absentmindedly traced the curl of Sanji’s eyebrow.

“I didn’t get his number,” Sanji sighed petulantly, “besides, he looked so damn pissy when I left.”

“Self-pity isn’t cute on you,” Nami pushed his forehead playfully before looking out at the crowd of dancing people, “maybe it was a fluke. You should try again and see. Only way to break your funk.”

“What kind of logic is that,” Sanji drawled, following her gaze as it settled on an older gentleman cutting lines at the private booth across from them.

“I’m serious,” Nami moved Sanji's head to push her bra up even farther, “Remember last year when I was obsessed with that super gothy pink haired girl? Like, couldn’t get her out of my head for WEEKS. Then we finally hooked up again and I realized I had my vodka goggles on. She was barely average when I was sober. Maybe you got that like Stalk Homes Syndrome?”

“Stockholm?” Sanji supplied helpfully, holding up his phone so she could check her lipstick.

“Whatever,” Nami reached for another shot lined up on the table, “He save your ass, you thought it was hot. Bam. I’m sure if you saw him again, you’d be over it.” She nodded sagely before pulling a white pill out of her pocket, popping it in her mouth before handing one to Sanji “so go fucking find him.” Nami kissed him wetly on the cheek before strolling over to the gentleman's table, pushing a blonde haired girl out of the way. She bat her eyelashes like a pro, and the man handed her a rolled up hundred, already wide-eyed and panting. 

“Maybe…” Sanji sighed, before throwing the pill down, chased with another shot of whisky.

He barely remembered the alleyway where they first met. Besides, Sanji rarely went to that side of town. He was only there to try a hole in the wall fish stall one of the chefs was raving about.He did enjoy their ceviche…maybe. He let himself fall back into the high as he heard Nami's laughter ring through the club. 

"Maybe," he muttered like a mantra as he stuck out his tongue, already dreaming about the sharp tang of sweat and sake.

“It’s so fucking good,” Nami moaned throatily, stabbing at the chunks of raw tuna doused in lime. He didn’t tell her why he was dragging her to the ‘bad side of town’ on his next day off. She bitched the entire way until she put the first piece of fish in her mouth.

“Not bad,” Sanja nodded along, but his gaze was on the street.

“You look like someone kicked your dog, we didn't snort that much last - oh shit! Usopp!!!” Nami waved excitedly at a long-nosed curly haired boy dressed in a brown track suit.

“Nami!” He called back excitedly, running over to the open air stand, “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” She waved her tiny wooden fork in the air before pointing at Sanji, “this is my friend I told you about, Sanji."

“The chef! Oh yea!,” Usopp flashed him an excited grin as he shook his hand, “My girlfriend LOVES your restaurant. Nice to meet ya.”

“Not my restaurant,” Sanji mumbled, his eyes catching on the line of well built men walking into a warehouse across the street. His eyes caught on a sign painted cheerily on the brick siding and his heart gave a small flutter, “Thousand Sunny Mixed Martial Arts Gym.” What were the odds.

"Sanji, this is Usopp he’s-“

“The most handsome, three time world champion mixed martial artist and hacker extraordinaire,” Usopp monologued grandly, eyes glowing as he clutched a fist over his heart, “So feared by the world governments that theres a 7 figure belli reward on his - ow!” He threw his arms over his head against Nami’s vicious punch

“Idiot,” Nami rolled her eyes, “He is a 3rd rate hacker with a gift for forgery and bullshit stories.” She sniffed delicately before leveling him with a fierce glare, “Although the fighting thing is new. I don’t know why you'd risk your money-making hands doing something so inane.”

“Hey,” Usopp shot her a wounded look before grinning at Sanji, “We men have fighting in our blood, right?! How else are we going to assert our dominance, huh?”

“Those little brats around the corner picking on you again?” Nami’s eyes narrowed, lips curling into a smirk.

“N-no, they’re my loyal minions!” Usopp nodded too quickly, “I’m the BEST fighter at the gym, they’re all scared of me…oh KID, hey KID!” Usopp waved at an impossibly large red head who pointedly ignored him. Sanji recognized him as the man in the bar window that night all those weeks ago. His eyes narrowed as the other familiar figure started heading towards them.

“shishishi,” the black haired boy with a worn looking straw hat on his head laughed, “Jaggy’s just grumpy he doesn’t get to fight this weekend. Did you get the fliers finished Usopp?!” He threw his arm around Usopp’s neck excitedly.

“Of course,” Usopp puffed up slightly before reaching into his bag, “you should be so lucky to have these fliers made by the very best flier maker in the whole city-“

“Who’re you?” Luffy cocked his head to the side as he looked at Nami and Sanji.

“I’m Nami, and this is Sanji. We're friends with Usopp,” she extended her hand but the boy just turned to Sanji.

“You were outside the bar with Zoro. You’re the reason he didn’t come back inside.”

“Yea...” Sanji threw Nami a look as he felt a heat flush the back of his neck,“how did you know?”

“You’re not here to made him mad again, are you?” Luffy’s voice was suddenly serious, gaze boring into Sanji’s, “I’m going to be the best fighter in the whole world, and Zoro’s on my team. If you make him upset again, I’ll beat you up.”

Sanji swallowed thickly. Somehow, even with thin legs poking out of ratty gym shorts, red tank top full of holes and a dusty straw hat on his head, Sanji believed Luffy’s threat.

“Sanji actually wanted to see him!” Nami added hastily, somehow piecing together the strange jumble of facts, “know where we can find him?”

“Ohhh he’s meditating in the back, he’ll be there for a few hours” The black haired boy turned to her, smile once again plastered on his face, “but you coming to the fight Saturday?! It’s our debut, you gotta be there.” He pulled a flier out of Usopp’s hand and shoved it against Sanji’s chest.

He looked down at the fluttering paper and his heart caught in his throat. Those intense black eyes stared back at him, a large scar bisected his bare torso, the edges of his tattoo peeking out from underneath a thick black bandana. He looked at the top of the flier.

**Roronoa Zoro v.s. Fishman Hatchan**

“We’ll definitely be there,” he heard Nami say as she shook his shoulder, “right, Sanji?”

“Yea,” he replied faintly. The old geezer at the restaurant owed him a sick day. Why he was wasting it on some uncultured, culinarily inept, unappreciative dumbass seemed unfathomable, yet here he was exchanging phone numbers with the long nosed boy.

Maybe it would be a good diversion from the strange routine he had found himself entrenched in. He was bored and stuck and needed something new.It was not that he cared about Zoro or anything.

Definitely not. He definitely didn’t wince as the green haired fighter received a particularly vicious blow to his ribs. He hid his grimace as he fumbled through the pockets of his jeans. He couldn't hear himself think over the screams of the crowd, and he could barely swallow against the bile rising in his throat.

Did people actually enjoy watching this shit?

The sound of fists hitting bare skin kept pulling his memories towards darker days. Hatchan struck another punishing blow to Zoro’s face and suddenly Sanji was five years old again, hiding under a maple tree in the family garden.

Hatchan hooked an arm around Zoro’s neck, and Sanji felt the ghost of his brothers hands around his own after they dragged him out of his hiding place just to silence his cries with their small fists.

Sanji’s heart was racings, breath come out in short pants as he dug his fingernails into his thighs..

“Beat the shit outta him, Hatchan!!!” Nami screamed next to him. He turned to her sharply, spooked from his memories. He tried to focus on her, her reddish hair, the gold bangles clanking noisily on her wrist as she threw her fists in the air. Nami had taken one look at the giant man with the dumb smile and octopus tattoos across his chest, and swiftly placed her bets on his victory.

Sanji took a shaky breath, and looked down at the crinkled cigarette in his hand. He lit it with deft fingers and brought it to his lips.

“Namiiii, you’re supposed to be rooting for Zoro!” Usopp’s nasal voice cut through the crowd.

“Sorry, boys. No way I’m putting money down on that scrawny marimo,” Nami lifted a pair of binoculars to her eyes, frowning as said marimo finally returned an equally brutal punch.

Sanji took a deep drag on his cigarette.

“Sir, no cigarettes in the arena please,” an attendant was up his ass before he could even exhale. Fuck, he breathed and ground the cigarette on the ground. He clenched his teeth together in frustration and turned his gaze back on the fight.

He wouldn’t let his family steal any more of his future. He pushed thoughts of them back into the recesses of his mind.

Sanji focused instead on the way sweat gleamed off Zoro’s chest, letting desire creep along his skin as better memories washed over him. He watched strong arms trap the Fishman’s low kick. A press on the soft spot above the knee and Hatchan was on the ground, leg trapped in Zoro’s unbreakable hold. He threw a few good punches to Zoro’s exposed ribs, but the man barely flinched.

Zoro used the next opening to press his forearm again Hatchan’s throat. Sanji felt the ghost of a smile when he recognized the finishing move. Not even seconds later, the fight was over.

“YEAAAAA ZORO” Usopp howled

“THAT’S CHEATING!!!!!” Nami screamed, “HE BARELY TAPPED."

Sanji just rubbed at his growing headache, pounding with his footsteps as he followed the crowd pushing against each other to leave the arena.

“C’mon, we’ll meet them at the bar.” Usopp grabbed at Sanji’s arm, but he resisted. Watching Zoro kick some dudes ass wasn’t as cathartic as expected. Sure, some part of him still wanted to jump his sweaty bones, but a larger part of him wanted to hold Zoro in his arms, press his face into too strong shoulders and murmur it would be ok. Tell him that no one could hurt him ever again, that he was safe. Sanji would keep him safe.

“Shitty marimo, I hate him already,” Nami muttered viciously as she dragged at Sanji’s arm, “he owes me 400,000 belli.”

Sanji shook off the strange feelings. What was he thinking. Zoro didn’t need him, he hadn’t texted him, he hadn’t even liked Sanji’s cooking. The thought made him frown. Fuck that marimo and his shitty, grumpy face.

He would just drop by the bar, congratulate him to be nice and get himself shit faced with Nami. Nothing wrong with routine. 

He stood staring at the run down bar as Nami raced past him to congratulate the black haired boy on his victory over Mr. 5.

“I had a feeling YOU’D win!” She laughed, wrapping a not so gentle arm around Luffy’s neck, “you made me RICH! Let me buy you a water!”

“You going in?”

Sanji felt a shiver run through him as the smell of sweat and sandalwood wafted over him.

“Guess that depends,” he said mildly, taking a drag at the cigarette, “do you want me to go in?”

“Dunno.” The blunt reply made Sanji shift.

“Congrats on winning, had me nervous there for a second. Lucky I remembered that finishing move.” Sanji snuck a look at the man standing next to him. Zoro had his bag in one hand, and his black hoodie drawn up over his head, casting a shadow over his expressionless face.

“I was sloppy,” Zoro barely sniffed. Sanji followed his gaze, Luffy was laughing at a small brown haired boy sticking chopsticks up his nose. Both boys seemed to realize they were being watched and beckoned to them through the window.

“Your friends probably want to party with you.” Sanji impulsively reached for a cigarette before stopping himself. His hands felt empty as he crossed them underneath his armpits, willing the hurt out of his voice. He had no reason to be hurt.

He hadn’t given Zoro any reason to text him, he thought with a sinking feeling. It had just been so warm, those stolen hours in a haze on a too soft bed. He wanted to try it again, he realized.

Just one more time.

“I’m hungry,” Zoro said finally, shifting the bag on his shoulder.

“Well I guess you better go in then,” Sanji said tightly, "Looks like Luffy's got his hands on something. I was going to get a drink with Nami and then probably head out."

“No.” Zoro’s voice was firm, eyes still staring at his teammates storming the bar.

“Oh,” Sanji tried to hide the strange hurt that flared with a laugh, “Guess I’ll just fuck off then.” He turned around quickly, throwing up a casual hand, “See ya round I guess.“ He had finally stumbled upon this glimmer of warmth and managed to royal fuck it up.

 _You were a mistake._ His fathers words chanted in his head. He needed a cigarette, he needed a drink, anything to drown it out and god he felt so pathetically miserable. 

“Would rather eat your food again.” Zoro said simply.

The words were like a foglight in the cloud of Sanji's thoughts and he felt something release in his chest. It took him a heartbeat to regain his breath.

“Yea?” He turned around, unable to stop the wild hope that clawed at his throat.

“Yea.”

They let the noisy chaos carry their words as Sanji felt a grin tug at his lips

“Any chance you picked up some new ingredients since I was last there?” He exhaled deeply, letting the lightness of his tone ask the forgiveness he could never verbalize.

“I might have.” Zoro shrugged and finally turned towards Sanji, “That sea salt shit is expensive. Can’t you just get it for free? Oceans like five feet away.”

Sanji couldn’t breath for a moment because Zoro was smiling at him and damn if it didn’t make his heart race. 

"Idiot unculturated marimo, do I have to teach you everything." He sniffed finally, letting his voice fall into casual disdain.

"Shitty curly eyebrowed cook," Zoro bantered back easily, throwing an arm around Sanji's shoulders. 

"My eyebrows are perfect," Sanji bit back even as he melted into the warmth circling him. 

He would follow the dumb fighter home one more time.

Then maybe one more after that. Ya know.

Just to make sure it wasn't a fluke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many words haha Next chapter I'm planning to start back where we left off last time. Unless you want to see more of their "getting to know you" year? Let me know what you think in the comments! Thank you, thank you for all your lovely feedback and thoughts!


	3. Medicine (wo)man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the shittiest of shitty fucking weeks, so I wrote lots of dumb ZoSan and KidLaw for that good good serotonin.  
> This vignette is set about 10 months after their original meeting and 4 months before the "present day." This'll be the last glimpse of the past, next chapter will continue where we left off.  
> Thanks for all the lovely support, hope you enjoy this one.  
> Warning: Vulgarity and swearing  
> Soundtrack: Medicine Woman by Robert Finley

**Four months earlier**

“That looks like it hurts.”

Sanji looked up to see a raven haired man smiling benignly down at him.

“It’s nothing,” Sanji quickly hid the livid burn mark across his palm. He was still cursing himself for trying to stir fry broccoli in his shitty kitchen using his even shittier old pans. The handle had broken off mid turn, splashing an arc of hot oil and garlic over his hand. He had run it under cold water, but it still hurt like hell.

“I doubt that,” the smile didn’t reach Trafalgar Law’s eyes as he turned back around, returning a few minutes later with a well stocked kit, “Give me your hand.”

Sanji hesitated for a moment. He had seen the team doctor only a handful of times over the past months he had been stopping by the Thousand Sunny MMA gym, but he never spoke with him before now. Sanji’s gaze traveled over the slightly faded tattoos decorating Law’s hand. The word ‘death’ inked over crooked fingers paired with the expressionless eyes didn’t seem particularly welcoming.

“You’re the chef right?” The man continued patiently, “you will need this hand to work won’t you?”

“I-it’s fine.” He mumbled, pulling his wounded hand a little closer.

“Don’t mind the tattoos,” the dead-eyed smile remained, “I was trained as a surgeon.”

“Oh,” Sanji opened his hand a little, “So you know what you’re doing?”

“Implicitly.”

Sanji hesitated for a moment longer, but he really did need his hand in working order. He gingerly placed his knuckles into the outstretched palm. Law turned the hand over, running deft fingers over the bubbling skin.

“Looks like an oil burn. This patch near your middle finger is particularly bad,” he commented as he pulled a few packets out of the kit, “I will cover it with an antibiotic cream to prevent infection and wrap it up for now with some non-stick gauze. Make sure it doesn’t get wet for 24 hours, and don’t pick at it. Let it go unwrapped after that, but make sure to cover it with an antibiotic spray every 6 hours.” Sanji’s head was ringing as he tried to follow the stream of conscious, “It looks like you’ve broken your fingers a few times. I would have guessed you were a fighter, but fighters don’t usually break their pinkies.”

Piercing yellow eyes met his, and Sanji tried to pull his hand from the firm grip.

“I’m not here to pry or judge,” he continued wrapping the bandage as if nothing had happened, “you will just be more prone to arthritis in the future, which would impeded your cooking. Be aware of that. I would recommend strength training exercises if you can find a physical therapist. Chopper might be more useful in that department”

“Thanks,” Sanji smiled faintly when his hand was finally released. He gave them an experimental clench and was relieved to see the swelling was already going down. He looked up before extending his good hand, “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced properly. Sanji.”

“Ah”, the man nodded before returning the shake, “Sorry. Trafalgar Law. Team doctor. I hear you’re the new nutritionist?”

“So I keep being told,” Sanji huffed a laugh, “Luffy just keeps insisting I'm the only one who can help him move into a heavier division? I'm still pretty clueless to be honest.”

“Luffy-ya can be persuasive when he wants something,” Law nodded with a grimace, “I myself got dragged here quite against my will a few years ago. It was meant to be temporary, but I seem to be unable to leave again.”

“Yea, well. It’s just something to do for now. To make a little extra money,” Sanji’s gaze travelled to the shirtless green haired man sparring with said black haired boy. Luffy had somehow managed to wrap his arms around Zoro’s bicep, and was using his legs to wind around Zoro’s exposed middle.

“Of course it is,” Law’s voice was soft. 

“Damn monkey,” Zoro’s strangled cry floated over as he vainly pushing against the calves now squeezing his ribs. Luffy’s laughter rang through the gym even as Zoro sent a few punches to his face.

Sanji’s hands itched for a cigarette, but he could only imagine what the surgeon would have to say about that. Although he didn’t seem like a typical doctor.

He threw Law a cautionary glance, and was momentarily taken aback by the transformed look on his face. It was like a different man was sitting next to him. Dead eyes were suddenly lit brilliant gold and a small, but real, smile curled on thin lips.

Sanji curiously followed his gaze, surprised to see Eustass Kid stomping towards them. Sanji had never seen the red head NOT scowling and he instinctively bristled as the man stopped a foot away from them. He was directing a terrifying amount of ire at the piece of paper in his hands. Sanji could just make out the neat lines of his own handwriting.

“The fuck is chicken stock, avocado oil, m-muesli?” Kid stumbled over the word before piercing Sanji with an irate look, “can’t even pronounce half this shit.”

“Ah. Muesli is oats commonly combined with dried fruit, nuts and seeds. It pairs very well with yogurt or your choice of milk. It’s imperative to start your day off with a natural source of protein plus carbohydrates…” Sanji trailed off when he saw the glazed look in Kid’s eyes.

“Fucks wrong with that powder shit?” Kid asked, throwing an outraged glance at the doctor. Sanji heard Law give a soft snort next to him.

“Should I tell our poor nutritionist exactly what you mix that ‘powder shit’ with?” Law gave a bored sigh, but the smile didn’t leave his lips.

“Beers a fucking carb.” Kid said defensively.

“Beer…and protein powder? For breakfast?” Sanji almost gagged in his mouth, “how are you still alive?”

“I ask myself that daily,” Law hummed in agreement as Kid shot them both a scowl.

“Fuck off,” Kid’s face was beginning to match his hair color, “when was the last time _you_ walked in the kitchen?”

“Hm,” Law looked thoughtful for a moment, "I think I used the scissors from the knife block to cut that suture above your eye. When did you last get your face bashed in? Tuesday?” Kid’s hand went to the bandage next to his eyebrow and he grumbled. He looked about ready to rip the food list to pieces.

“I mean, some of these things are staples every athlete should have in the refrigerator anyway,” Sanji jumped in quickly, saving the paper from Kid’s fist and scanning, “Yogurt? Spinach? Eggs?” His stomach dropped as he saw the dazed look.

“The fuck’s in the fridge?” Kid turned to Law, a panicked edge creeping into his voice.

“Beer?” Law shrugged, “a few liquid antibiotics. Some wilted vegetables Bepo tried to bully us into eating.”

Us?

The word clanged around Sanji’s brain.

So Kid wore purple lip tint and favored colorfully patterned shorts. Maybe he was just eccentric? Sanji wasn’t about to assume anything about the temperamental red head.

“Do either of you cook? Together?” Sanji asked experimentally.

“Cook?” Law shrugged as Kid snorted, “Come to think of it, I believe the oven is still wrapped in plastic. At least it was when we bought the place half a year ago.”

“Are you…roommates?” Sanji ventured hesitantly.

“In a sense.” Law's smile widened slightly.

“What sense…” Sanji’s curiosity got the better of him, but he regret the words as soon as they were out of his mouth

“Are you fucking blind?” Kid’s voice was dripping his sarcasm and Sanji fought the urge to poke him in the eyeballs. Blind, huh?

Sanji finally took a good look at the red headed man looming over him. Kid’s black tank top barely covered his powerful build, his left arm was completely covered in tattoos of intertwining gears, his nails painted black and…oh. Sanji’s eyes caught on the black band tattooed on the ring finger of his left hand. He turned his head so quickly, he thought he’d get whiplash and there… right above the “T” on Law’s finger was a matching black band.

“Oh.” Sanji blinked for a moment, before the realization sent a bomb exploding in his brain, “you’re married?!?”

“He’s almost as dumb as the moss head,” Kid shot a derisive look at Law.

“Eustass-ya,” the surgeon chided, but they were both quickly drowned out by an exuberant shout from the black haired boy.

“Sanjiiiiii you’re finally here!” Luffy yelled, leaving a disgruntled Zoro to pick himself off the mat, “I can’t eat green things, I’m allergic.”

“I somehow doubt that,” Sanji mentally flipped through what he wrote on Luffy’s sheet, “Are you allergic to all vegetables, or just green ones? What about cauliflower?”

“I’m allergic to anything without meat,” Luffy nodded, face serious as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’ve never heard of that particular condition” Sanji felt the vein in his forehead pop.

“Wait, me too,” Kid suddenly raised his hand like a preschooler who needed to pee, “I can only eat meat. Allergies.”

“That’s impossible,” Sanji could practically feel the smoke coming out of his nostrils, “you need a balanced diet. I’ve spent weeks researching this.”

“Protein and fat, don’t need anything else,” Kid and Luffy nodded simultaneously. Sanji threw Law a pleading look, but the raven haired man just shrugged.

“Bread is repugnant,” was all Law contributed. Sanji finally sent a last ditch plea to the green haired fighter walking towards them.

“Please tell your shit-for-brains teammates that I know what I’m talking about,” Sanji practically spit.

“Your _boyfriend’s_ a dumbass,” Kid somehow managed to make the word sound disgusting despite his own marital status.

“He’s not my boyfriend-“ Sanji started.

“He’s not a dumbass-“ Zoro said firmly.

Zoro and Sanji cut off at the same time as they exchanged a vaguely distressed look.

“That’s not the word I have a problem with,” Sanji hissed as Zoro sent his gaze to the floor.

“Well you should,” he mumbled back, scratching at the cloth band covering his stomach.

“Ah-fucking-ha” The red-head mocked as a gleeful smile spread across his lips, “guess you’re researching the wrong fu-oof-“ Kid was cut off by a vicious kick to his ribs.

“I’ll make sure to pick up some of these ingredients Sanji-ya,” Law’s fingers were gentle as they plucked the list from Sanji’s grasp, “thank you for spending so much time on it.”

“Of course,” Sanji said faintly, turning towards Zoro without meeting his eye, “I better get going…”

“Let me just grab my bag,” Zoro was gone before Sanji could protest.

Sanji made a habit of never going over Zoro’s place twice in one week, and he had already stopped by two nights ago. He really should just go home...

He hesitated a second too long, letting his eyes run over the map of strong shoulders, still gleaming with sweat, and his knees went weak.

Damn it.

He didn’t want to encourage any sort of feelings shit, especially when the dreaded 'boyfriend' got mentioned. Sanji waited for the flood of disgust he typically felt at the word, but his mind kept flashing to matching tattoo’d bands.

His gaze shifted back to where the red head was laughing raucously at some dumb face Luffy was making. Law's gaze was still on Kid’s, that golden shine still bright in his eyes and when Kid finally met it...

Something clutched a Sanji’s chest as he watched a soft look wash over Kid’s face. Some strange emotion he couldn’t put his finger on, but he hadn’t felt it in a very long time. Not since he saw his father beam proudly at his brothers with a face he never once turned towards Sanji.

This was different though, sharper. Like a knife twisting in his chest. It was strange. They were strange. He tasted something acrid on his tongue as he frowned. That’s what that was.

Strange and weird.

The taste never left him even as he found himself following the moss-head home.

“They’re married,” Sanji finally huffed as he lay stretched out next to Zoro, legs still tangled in damp sheets.

“And?” The grunt answered.

“Isn’t that weird” Sanji rolled over and flicked Zoro’s earlobe.

“Ow, shit,” Zoro glared at him angrily before trapping the hand in his, “What’s weird about it?”

“They’re…they’re men!” Sanji sputtered. Zoro held his unwavering gaze for a moment before swiftly reaching under the sheets. Sanji nearly jumped as cold hands wrapped around his dick, “what the fuck?!”

“Well, shit,” Zoro mumbled before rolling over again, “guess you’re a man too. Oops.”

“Fucker,” Sanji hissed, flush blooming across his face as he kicked the prone form, “you know what I mean.”

“Not really,” the words werepunctuated by a loud yawn. Zoro clearly didn’t give a fuck, but Sanji couldn’t seem to let the conversation go.

“Why though?” Sanji pressesd.

“Why what?”

“Why get married?” He couldn’t hide the absolute confusion from his voice, “why bother.” Zoro stared at him then, holding his gaze firmly with unreadable eyes.

“You should just ask them.”

“I don’t know them!” Sanji responded tartly.

“Then stop being nosy.” Zoro smirked, and Sanji felt the indignation rise.

“I’m trying to help them make healthier choices, but I can’t do that if I don’t know who they are, what they’re like, what they like,” Sanji said, “so help me understand them.”

“Don’t see how this’ll help them learn how to cook,” Zoro muttered.

“Just tell me,” Sanji punctuated the words with a kick that Zoro caught. He seemed to contemplate Sanji for a moment before dropping his foot to settle his hands behind his head.

“Law had a pretty shitty childhood, from the little he’s talked about it,” Zoro said, keeping his eyes focused on the ceiling, “Kid grew up in the foster care system. That tall blonde that trains with him is one of his foster brothers.”

“The one that’s always wearing the bandages across his face? He's fucking batshit.” Sanji remembered the blond haired giant laughing as he snapped a young fighters arms during a supposed friendly match.

“He's had a rough life. They all have,” Zoro shrugged, “Anyway, some dudes from Law’s past jumped him, beat the shit out of him so bad he was in the hospital almost two months. They had to practically reattach his arm.”

“Oh shit…what happened?”

“Dunno. Kid found him half dead outside the gym and brought him to the hospital. The doctors wouldn’t tell Kid anything cause of some legal bullshit. Said to even go into Law's room he had to be either family or a spouse.” Zoro cleared his throat for a moment, the memories tugged his lips into a frown, “Kid freaked, thinking someone else could get to him in the hospital. So he went back that same day with papers from the court house, and the hospital let them get married right in Law's room. Kid basically hasn't let Law out of his sight since."

“Oh.” Sanji paused, shifting uncomfortably as he tried to reconcile the story with the violent fighter he had wanted to punch out just hours before, “so it’s just a piece of paper.”

“Whaddya mean?” Zoro’s voice was tight.

“It’s not a real marriage, ya know?” Sanji didn’t know what the feeling gnawing at his chest was, “Kid just did it to protect Law or whatever. When was that?”

“Dunno, it was a few weeks before I met you. It’s why all that shit with Carbiou happened. Thought you were part of the crew that jumped Law,” Zoro gave him a puzzled look, “Why?"

“That’s like…7 months?”Sanji did the calculations, “and they’re still married? Wonder why. ”

“They like each other well enough, I guess?,” Zoro shrugged, “We had to ban them from banging in the gym after Chopper walked in on them.”

“That’s so…”

“Weird,” Zoro parroted back.

“Huh…” Sanji curled his knees up to his chest, “c’mon it IS weird, you have to admit.”

“Says the guy who’s sold his dirty socks to some pervs on the street,” Zoro said drily.

“Fuck, I forgot I told you that,” Sanji felt around the floor for the package of cigarettes and lighter stuffed into his discarded dress pants, “It was only once and I was desperate.” He picked his underwear up while he was down there. Experience said Zoro was about two minutes from totally passing out, which was when Sanji usually made his escape.

“I can lend you some money if you need.” Zoro said quietly, eyes finally meeting Sanji’s.

“No thank you,” Sanji said quickly, lighting the cigarette with an experienced flick, “you’re not exactly flush for belli.” His eyes lit over the scraped up walls in bad need of a paint job.

“Made some extra off one of the undergrounds,” Zoro shrugged, “I can spot ya.”

“Thanks, sugar zaddy, but no.” Sanji blew him an exaggerated kiss.

“What’s a…zaddy,” Zoro scrunched his nose around the word in distaste.

“God your such a bad gay.” Sanji laughed as one hand reached for his pants.

“I’m not…a gay.”

It was Sanji’s turn to give the man laying next to him a blank look. He barely twitched a facial muscle as he bent over and touched the generous bulge under the top sheet.

“Oh my,” even his voice remained deadpan, “What a big strap on you’ve got. It felt so very life like. What shall I EVER do.”

“Fuck off,” Zoro swatted at his hand, face a magnificent shade of crimson, “i’m not, _a_ _gay_.”

“Are you shitting me?” Sanji couldn’t even muster a laugh as he waved a hand between them, “then what do you call this?”

“Me. And you,” Zoro said, emphasizing each word.

“I” Sanji gave an exaggerated point to himself, “am bisexual, Nami-swan is pansexual but honestly more like Bellisexual, Chopper I’m pretty sure is sapiosexual with the way he’s always clutching an anatomy textbook. Labels are very important.”

“Then why did you freak when Kid called you my boyfriend? Isn’t that a label?” Zoro’s rebuttal had Sanji momentarily speechless.

“It’s…not the same.” Sanji said with a huff, but Zoro’s eyes were resolutely staring into his.

“Why can you have your labels but I can’t have mine?”

“What do you mean _your_ label?” Sanji waved a hand, “Do you want _that_ label?!”

“I dunno, maybe.” Zoro shrugged noncommittally.

“Maybe?!” Sanji voice rose an octave, “what kind of childish answer is that?”

“You’re the one yelling.”

“I’m not-“ Sanji stopped when he realized he was, indeed, yelling. He gave an irritated flick of his cigarette, “Whatever. Regardless. Look, I’m a military brat. I fucked a LOT of repressed men, and let me tell you, it never ends well for anyone involved. ESPECIALLY when they wake up one day and decide to get wives, so figure out your shit.” The words came out harsher than he expected, but he had been so damn hurt in the past. “There was this guy, Gin, and he-“ Hands quickly covered his mouth.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” the look in Zoro’s eyes was murderous.

“Wha?” Sanji smiled behind warm fingers, “don’t wanna hear about all my hookups in gory details? Some dudes get off on that.”

“No thanks,” Zoro’s hands dropped but kept the expression, “‘ts what I mean.”

“What?” Sanji smirked, letting the smoke from his cigarette curl lazily between them.

“Just you and me. Nobody else matters.” Zoro nodded resolutely.

“Cute,” Sanji admitted, ignoring the small tendril of warmth that pooled in his stomach, “but I still don’t fucks with repression. So at least tell me that much.”

“Fine,” Zoro’s face was thoughtful for a moment before splitting into a grin, “I’ve decided.”

“Oh?” Sanji’s eyes narrowed with trepidation.

“I’m Sanjisexual”

Sanji’s “fuck offs” where quickly smothered in hot kisses, as calloused fingers found the way back into his hair. He let himself be pulled back down, let his laughter dissolve as an insistent tongue pushed against his.

An intrusive voice in his head wondered exactly how far he’d be willing to go to keep this green-haired fighter always in his sights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy dumb shit. Sorry if the dialogue was a little more ooc than normal, but I was laughing sooo. Let me know what you think! We're returning back to that WCI-arc next.


	4. St. Bernard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot? What's a plot? I can't just do psychological character assessments under the guise of pithy vignettes? *claws at face*  
> Sorry this took a bit to come out, I'm still wrestling with the shape of the story, but hopefully you enjoy "Chapter 2"!  
> Warning: Mention of drug use and lots o’ swearing. 
> 
> Playlist: "Saint Bernard" by Lincoln

_Present day_

Sanji traced patterns into bare skin with one hand, the other clenching a cigarette between practiced fingers.He surveyed the sad excuse for a suitcase, spilling out clothes and a razor in a corner of the studio apartment. He had meant to hang up his dress shirt to prevent wrinkles, but something distracted him.

The something being a green hair fighter, currently recovering from a night of heavy training and heavier drinking. It was a hard-earned victory over Daz Bones. Zoro had nearly given Sanji a heart attack when he went down in the 2nd round from a particularly vicious right hook to the head. But he had gotten up, with a second to spare in time to rain a series of almost demonic punches on the man.

Sanji had followed Zoro home that night, hands tearing at each other’s clothing before they could even make it through the door. They fell asleep with the taste of each other still on their lips and rose with expressions that matched for the very first time. A freshly cut housekey was pressed into delicate hands, and, before Sanji knew it, twelve hours later he was crawling back into a warm bed. 

It was the morning of the third night he had stayed over, and the lightness that buoyed him through the day was starting to fade. There had been no talks of feelings or expectations or compromise and Sanji could already feel time slipping from his grasp.

His sister would be back in two days to ask the question that had been haunting his every step the past week. And though he knew the answer in every desperate kiss he shared with the fighter, the words had yet to find themselves spoken into existence. How could they?

His father had never taken ‘no’ for an answer after all.

Sanji didn’t even realize he had stopped tracing circles until a hand clamped over his.

“Don’ stop, ‘sgood,” the voice under the bedcovers mumbled, letting a hand fall heavy against Sanji’s stomach.

“Hey lazy marimo. I gotta go.” He kicked the leg tangled in his, “omelets aren’t going to make themselves.”

“Warm,” was all the response he received as the arm snaked around his waist. Sanji huffed a laugh disguised as a put-out sigh and allowed himself to be dragged back into an embrace.

 _I’m sleeping with a furnace_ , Sanji thought, sticking a frozen foot underneath the body next to him. He smirked at the uncharacteristic yelp that emerged followed by a baleful black eye staring up at him.

“Wazzat for?”

“Might as well make yourself useful.” Sanji’s laugh turned into a sigh as lips found their way to that sensitive spot behind his ear.

“‘m plenty useful,” Zoro’s husky laugh sent shiver’s down the blonde’s spine and he allowed himself to be pulled back under warm covers.

Breakfast could wait.

***

The whispers started when he put on his apron that morning. He was halfway through chopping parsley for the _duck confit_ when he felt a multitude of eyes boring into his back. He quickly turned, but a sea of heads snapped back to whatever task they were doing.

Huh.

“Oi, shit-for-brains,” he turned to Carne who was whispering furtively to Patty. He cleared his throat and the two turned to him with twin looks of surprise, “got anymore of that shit from Fullbody? What’d he cut it with? Shit was good.”

“We ain’t got nuthin’ for traitors.” Patty sniffed.

If Sanji didn’t know better, he would have said the overgrown idiot was crying. What the hell?

“Fuckers,” He muttered, turning back to the tan half-moons sitting in the prep bowl, “getting high without me.” He had barely begun to mince the garlic when he heard the ghosts of whispered words.

_“Weird…seems…happy…abandon us?”_

“The fuck is wrong with you dipshits?” He turned with a vicious bite, only to come face to face with the head chef. Zeff stared down at him a few minutes before angling his head towards his office.

“Let’s talk”

“The duck needs to marinate,” Sanji’s petulance masked the anxiety humming through him.

“Carne’ll take over.” Zeff threw the shorter chef a sharp nod before turning back around. Carne didn’t even meet Sanji’s eyes as he grasped the outstretched knife, hilt first.

Fuck. Sanji could do nothing but follow the limping man up the stairs.

“What the hell is going on?” The words flew out of his mouth as he gingerly lowered himself on the plush chair. He tried to hide the wince as pain laced through his lower back. There was another reason he preferred one-night stands. More nights in between to recover.

“Everyone is concerned.” Zeff’s eyes narrowed as Sanji shifted.

“Huh?” Sanji paused, ass halfway off the seat.

“You’re smiling.”

Sanji nearly fell out of his chair.

“Are you shitting me?” He threw an aggressive finger at the impassive man in front of him, “first you tell me to ‘find what makes me open my eyes’ and some bullshit, and then you’re mad I’m smiling?!”

“So you took my advice, finally?” Zeff heaved a tired sigh, letting his fingers form a steeple in front of his face.

“I guess?” Sanji fell back in the chair. They sat in a silence that made Sanji want to crawl out of his skin, “that it?”

“You tell me.” Zeff pulled a thick, cream colored envelope from his desk drawer and threw it towards him. Sanji took one look at the looping cursive and his stomach fell to the floor. He reached for the envelope with shaky fingers, finally sliding the thick velum out.

_To Chef Zeff at the Baratie,_

_Please provide a recommendation for one Vinsmoke Sanji authenticating his culinary proficiency. The recommendation should be addressed to the government of Cake Island for the acquisition of one permit for the opening of a privately funded restaurant._

_We will be expecting a response within 24 hours._

_From,_

_Vinsmoke Judge._

“That absolute fucker,” the thick paper crumpled in Sanji’s fist.

“So you didn’t know about this?” Zeff’s eyebrows stretched all the way up to his hairline, “Got the boys pretty riled up about it. I know I said you should go your own way, just didn’t expect it to be with your father.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he bit out through clenched teeth, “I’d just be under the thumb of some other hardass.”

“So this isn’t news…?” Zeff’s eyes narrowed. Sanji ripped a cigarette out of the crumpled carton.

“Yea, my sister dropped by a few days ago,” He allowed the flame from the lighter to linger against his thumb a second longer than needed. Dull pain laced through his hand and he felt his mind enter a numb haze. It was messier than weed, but it got the job done in a pinch, “she said my father bought me a restaurant in the heart of Whole Cake Island. I’d be given c _arte blanche_ over the menu and design. No budget limit or anything. I could use all the fresh ingredients from the island and shit.”

“Sounds like a good deal.” Zeff gave a conciliatory nod.

“Too good,” Sanji exhaled heavily.

“Big Mama’s territory, mh?” Zeff crinkled his nose in distaste, “They’ll use the restaurant as a front.”

“Obviously.”

“Nasty business,” Zeff said again, “One of the younger guys in the family tried that. Gun toting maniac named Capone. A stationary place of operations just means you have less places to run when shit hits the fan. Navy arrested all the cooks along with the owners when they finally cleaned the place.”

“I can manage on my own.” Sanji said defensively, “besides, Big Mama has absolute control of that island. No navy gets in unless she wants them to.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought it through,” Zeff cut him another look, “your fighter boy coming with you?”

“Haven’t told him.” Sanji finally muttered after a long exhale, “not his problem.”

“Seems like you missed the point of our last talk, mh?” Zeff sniffed once before reaching out his hand. Sanji wordlessly passed the cigarette into waiting fingers. Zeff took an experienced inhale before releasing a bellowing cough.

“You’re out of practice, old man,” Sanji hid his frown with a shrug as he plucked the smoldering cigarette back.

“That’s what old age does to ya,” He finally wheezed, coughing a few more times for effect, “and you’re playing a dangerous game, kid. Burnin’ through your good years at a rate faster than even I can keep up.”

“Sucks to suck,” Sanji said simply.

“What about the All Blue? Not going to find it shackled to a stove in Big Mama’s restaurant” Zeff’s words knocked the air of him.

The All Blue? A word he saw in a picture book while cradled on his mothers lap. A mythical part of the ocean full of every fish imaginable. He had promised his mother that he’d find it and cook a feast delicious enough to heal her.

Clearly that hadn’t fucking worked.

“It’s not real.” It hurt to force the words out, but it was safer than letting the thought burrow in his heart again, creating dreams out of make believe.

“Stubborn fool,” Zeff huffed, leveling Sanji with an angry eye. “So do ya want the damn recommendation or not?”

“Yea,” Sanji surprised them both with the speed of his answer, “better to keep my options open, right?” Zeff held his gaze for a moment before shaking his head.

“Leave more fat on the duck. You trimmed it too tight last time, got dry.” Zeff’s tone was a curt dismissal and Sanji felt disappointment seep through his skin. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. More protests?

Someone to fight for him?

Nah. Zeff had fought hard enough for him. Sanji stood up quickly, kicking the desk leg as he went.

“You’ll get what you get geezer.”

He slammed the door shut, hoping to have trapped the memories of that magical word inside it.

***

“Just let me borrow one, you have ten!” Sanji squeezed the cell phone between his cheek and shoulder as he pulled a jacket out of his restaurant locker.

“But I like that one best,” Nami’s voice was uncharacteristically whinny through the speaker, “plus it’s always good to have extras handy! You’d never guess how many people spill things on their shirts. ”

“You really want the next person you’re fucking to walk in your closet and see a shelf of mens shirts of varying sizes and styles?” He retorted, “You going to tell them you keep a souvenir from every person you’ve hooked up with?”

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” she muttered defensively before relenting, “fine, but you better return it!”

“The white one with the black polka dots!”

“Aw, Jack!! I-“

“Do you have Robin’s address?” Sanji interrupt quickly. He didn’t have time for that particularly gruesome tale.

“Yea,” Nami gave a sharp huff before her tone changed, “bet’s still on?”

“Obviously,” Sanji felt the answering grin on his face as he shut his locker, “what are we up to now?”

“Well it goes up every party, so…” Nami’s line went quiet for a moment as she made a few mental calculations, “500 belli if Robin and Franky ask for a threesome.”

“I still think you have better chances than I do,” Sanji muttered, shouldering the back doors of the restaurant open.He clenched his teeth against the frigid wind coming off the ocean.

“Yea, but you’ve better chances on the other one,” Nami laughed lightly, “it’s now 1,500 belli for a Kid and Law threesome.”

“We’re never going to work up the nerve to approach them, are we?” Sanji sighed.

“Probably not. Kid scares the shit out of me,” Nami agreed, jostling the phone for a moment, “be there in 15. Meet you outside. Don’t be late, it’s cold as fuck.”

The phone clicked before he could respond. He stuffed his hands in his pocket, taking a deep breath of clean air.

Robin and Franky were throwing a party, half to celebrate the trio of victories Luffy, Zoro and Kid had. Half to discuss the game plan for the matches in Dressrosa. They were three months away, but it might as well have been a lifetime for Sanji.

Zeff didn’t know how right he was. A dangerous game, Sanji huffed a bitter laugh. He asked for that recommendation knowing full well he was going to be falling back into a warm bed tonight.

Fuck, fuck. He pulled at his hair in agitation. He needed time. He needed an excuse. Something.

They were greeted with excited cheers as Sanji and Nami walked through the door. Nami in a low cut black dress, Sanji in his white and black polka dotted shirt. He saw the marimo almost immediately, lounging against the wall at the opposite end of the spacious loft apartment. Sanji’s heart skipped a beat when Zoro’s usually serious face broke into a lopsided grin.

Zoro took a step towards him, but was quickly pulled back. A black haired girl, glasses perched on her nose was gesturing wildly at him, her face full of animated excitement. Zoro looked like he was about to vomit, his face turning an impressive shade of red.

Weird. A strange frown tugged at Sanji’s mouth.

“Aren’t you training with Drake-ya tomorrow morning?” Law’s dry voice pulled Sanji’s gaze. Kid had an arm thrown haphazardly around the doctor’s waist as Carrot poured him a shot at the kitchen counter turned makeshift bar.

“Fuck it, I can still get it up,” Kid reached for the shot, but Law was too quick.

“I’m sure Drake-ya will not find that necessary,” Law hummed congenially, snatching the glass off the table. Without taking his affectionate gaze off the red head, he wordlessly pressed the drink into Sanji’s hand.

“1500 belli,” Nami whispered in Sanji’s ear, “do it”

Visions of a new suit waltzed in Sanji’s brain.

“Sorry, Law, I only drink tequila if I’m going to be fucking someone” Sanji reached a hand toward’s Law’s arm. Before he could blink, black painted fingers were wrapping painfully around his throat.

“Touch him and I’ll snap your fucking neck.” Kid looked decidedly less drunk leveling Sanji with a glare that froze the blood in his veins.

“Please don’t. I’ve grown rather fond of our nutritionist,” Law, without missing a beat, pressed firmly at a pressure point on Kid’s wrist. Fingers released Sanji’s throat with a jolt.

Fuck. Sanji felt the breath rush back into him as Law threw him a vaguely apologetic half shrug.

“Well THAT was hilarious,” Nami snorted a laugh as she dragged Sanji towards the far corner of the room where Robin and Cavendish were chatting.

“I want a new bet,” Sanji muttered back, massaging his trachea. He barely got two steps before hands were grabbing his arm.

“You ok?” Zoro’s hands were running up his arms, before settling gently against his throat, “I’ll break his face again tomorrow.” Sanji let himself melt into the warmth of the others body heat.

“He’s fine.” He muttered, letting his forehead fall naturally against a strong shoulder, “Just surprised me.” He felt his heartbeat level out as the noise surrounding them faded into the background. It was just them, standing in a room that could have been on fire for all he cared and damn, it was kinda nice-

“Zoro-san, where did you- Oh…erm…” Sanji turned an angry eye towards the black haired girl, glasses still perched precariously on her nose. She took another look at the two of them, face getting redder by the moment before dropping in a low bow. “Sorry to interrupt Zoro-san, but please will you fight me.” She sprang back up, leveling Zoro with an intense glare.

“Huh?” Sanji’s laughter died in his throat when he saw Zoro’s stricken face. The fighter open and closed his mouth, but no words came out. They stood like that for a few moments of awkward silence. “Well. Don’t let me third wheel.” Sanji felt his own cheeks redden with anger as he quickly disentangled himself.

“Wait, Sanji,” Zoro called after him, before turning back to the girl, “Leave me alone for fucks sake.”

He tried not to think too hard about the way the girl was looking at Zoro, with a strange mixture of admiration and hope. Like it was easy for her to be so damn vulnerable.

It left a bitter taste in Sanji’s mouth.

He made his way quickly to where Nami had thrown her arms around Chopper, now glowing bright as a tomato.

“C’mon Chopper, I KNOW you’ve heard of it, you’re such a brilliant physical therapist, of course you have!” Nami cooed.

“Don’t say such nice things about me, I hate you,” Chopped giggled, letting his head rest against Nami’s low cut dress, “I don’t know anything about NHC10!”

“So THATS what its called,” Nami laughed, throwing Sanji a smile as she handed him a drink, “I hear it’s a mind-blowing high! Any chance you could get us some?”

Sanji walked away from Chopper’s howls of protestation, heading towards the black haired woman perched on a burgundy settee.

“Robin,” Sanji raised his glass at the chuckling woman, “thank you for inviting us into your beautiful home again. Your parties are always a highlight of my week.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” She clinked glasses before turning her gaze over Sanji’s shoulder, “lets just hope no one dies before we reach Dressrosa, mh? Franky has been very worried.”

Sanji heard Franky’s booming laughter before he saw him. He turned to watch the blue haired man strike an exaggerated pose, his blue speedo sparkling like a disco ball.

“He does look worried, doesn’t he?” Sanji hummed along the rim of his drink.

“You would understand if you knew him.” Robin laughed softly, “ You know, I wouldn’t have spared him a second glance in my younger years.”

“What changed?” Sanji turned to her, suddenly serious. Words were rarely casual with Robin. It was the thing he respected most about her.

“I did.” She said simply, watching as Luffy tried to steal a hamburger off the man’s outstretched plate only to be smacked in the face by Chopper’s flailing hands, on the run from Nami, “He answered a question I didn’t even realize I was asking,”

“What was the question?” Sanji prompted casually.

Robin smiled at the scene unfolding in front of her before turning to Sanji, “You’re allowed to accept affection if you need it.”

“I…” Sanji paused a moment before swallowing hard, “I don’t need any of that crap.”

“Of course not,” her laugh was light, but real, “Not now. Now you are vitality burning bright,” she hummed, “but sooner than you think, after life betrays you one more time, you will find yourself reaching for that next high and find his hand instead.” Her eyes were piercing when she turned to him again, “and I promise, when his fingers close around yours, it will be the best feeling of all.”

“Strange I’m getting the same talk twice in one day,” Sanji muttered into his glass.

“You are chaos walking, dear Sanji. Those of us who have been held in that particular embrace can spot it.” Robin’s laugh was like crystals, and Sanji couldn’t help the small sag of his shoulders.

“Maybe.”

They sat like that for a few moments of companionable silence before the questions seemed to bubble in Sanji’s chest. He wasn’t some jealous boyfriend or anything, he didn’t need to ask.

He was just curious. For curiosities sake.

“Who’s the girl?” Sanji didn’t even need to point.

“Tashigi.”Robin’s smile dropped a little, “a marine who begged Franky to let her train with them.I believe she’s the exact image of a dear friend Zoro had in his childhood. He refuses to even look at her. Franky felt too bad to refuse, so he invited her to train in a few of the beginner classes,” Robin gave a shrug, “She’s more advanced than that, but what can you do.”

“He never told me about a childhood friend,” Sanji felt a weird prickle of jealously spark through him as he watched the girl’s earnest face looking furtively around the room.

“Have you asked?” Robin said simply. Sanji let the silence answer her question, downing the whisky in his hands in one go. His fingers found themselves pulling at his pack of cigarettes.

“I can’t believe Tashigi’s entering the Coliseum. She’s good, but those amateur fights are scary.” Sanji turned to see Usopp looking thoughtful as he stuffed cubes of cheese in his face. He panicked momentarily when he met Sanji’s inquisitive look, “I mean…I’m going to enter of course, but you know. I’m a prodigy. The should be s-scared of m-me!”

“Amateur fights?” Sanji asked, gratefully accepting the ash tray Robin handed him.

“Yea man!”

Sanji nearly jumped as two men appeared next to Usopp. He vaguely recognized them as Zoro’s buddies from the underground fights.

“It’s the best way for unaffiliated fighters to get noticed, maybe picked up.” Yosuke nodded, “plus that half million belli prize ain’t too bad.”

Sanji’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“H-half a million?!” Sanji’s jaw dropped, “for a few stupid fights?”

“I mean…” Johnny coughed lightly, “The first stage is the hardest. They just dump all competitors in a ring and they pick the last 14 standing to compete in actual 1v1 fights. You don’t think it’s that bad, but I did it last year.” He shuddered visibly, “there were about 100 people initially. It started off ok, but it always turns into a bloodbath after first blood is drawn.”

“Yea,” Usopp nodded, chiming in “the worst are those monsters from Whole Cake Island. It’s like they have a breeding program for vicious killers.”

“Huh.” A wild plan started forming in Sanji’s brain. So wild that he didn’t dare think too hard about it, even as a green haired man found his gaze in the crowd.

A plan that might give him just a little more time.

Time to figure out what “next” actually meant.

***

Sanji knocked on the heavy wooden doors three times. Doors he hadn’t stood in front of in years.

They swung open, faster than he was ready, revealing a lovely blonde in a maid outfit.

“Y-young master S-sanji,” brown eyes widened.

“Cosette? Is that you? You’ve gotten so beautiful,” He smiled at the young woman for a moment before exhaling heavily, “Is my father home?” He let his mind fall back into that cold, unfeeling place.

He was guided through the hallways, past the photos of his siblings and him dressed up like comic book villains. They stood victorious, in full military regalia, over a bank robber. The police officers stood around, useless and stupid. A subversive political commentary disguised as a publicity stunt that had gotten out of control. Sanji hadn’t been allowed to attend the subsequent press conference, but his father’s laughter at the riots they caused rang through the mansion for days.

He took a few calming breaths as the doors to the dining room were pushed open. Sanji mentally cursed as he counted five heads in various stages of eating breakfast.

“And here I thought we’d have to drag his body through the streets to get him back here,” Ichiji sighed, turning a page of the newspaper he was reading.

“We still can,” Niji nodded, spreading butter on a piece of toast. Something green flashed in Sanji’s periphery, but he was already prepared. He grunted softly as a armored kick met his shin.

“Boring,” Yonji said, aiming another kick at Sanji’s head. The chef blocked again, trapping the foot in his hands before sending a kick to Yonji’s standing leg. The green haired boy collapsed in a pile on the floor.

“Enough.” A voice boomed across the hall and 5 pairs of eyes went to the giant man sipping an espresso, “I assume you’re here about our deal.”

“You didn’t exactly give me a choice,” Sanji argued, dropping Yonji’s leg as he stepped over his body, “I came to negotiate.”

“What’s there to negotiate,” Judge grunted, still staring down at the pile of open files in front of him, “you should be grateful. The family finally has a use for you.” Sanji swallowed the angry words threatening to spill out his mouth.

“I want to compete in the amateur fights at the Coliseum,” he said. Judge finally looked at him, hard grey eyes meeting his own. A heartbeat of silence, then a cacophony of laughter.

“You?! In the Coliseum?” Niji wiped a tear from his eye, “you’ll be dead in minutes.”

“Seconds!” Ichiji laughed.

“Why?” Reiju was the only one not laughing, though she had stopped peeling the apple in her hands. Instead piercing Sanji with searching blue eyes, “you never wanted to be a fighter.”

“It would give the family more leveraging power with Big Mama wouldn’t it?” Sanji kept his voice neutral, bored, “Her children compete every year. When I beat them, she will lose face, and the delicate balance of negotiations would tip in our favor wouldn’t they? I heard there’s a certain drug you’ve been wanting to get your hands on. NHC10?” Sanji let the silence wash over the room, his hands itched for a cigarette, but he didn’t dare move. This was pivotal moment. If he couldn’t convince them, he would be trapped. It was a desperate move, but it was all he could come up with.

“Seems our lessons didn’t go to waste on you after all.” Judge finally said, and Sanji felt the air rush out of him.

Reiju looked like she was about to say something, but she stopped, shaking her head before turning back to her food.

“How the hell do you think you’re going to get strong enough in 3 months to defeat Big Mama’s crew?” Yonji asked, having pushed himself to a sitting position.

“Theres a gym near my house that-“

“He will train here.” Judge’s voice was final.

A chorus of “what?,” rang out, Sanji’s loudest among them.

“You will NOT embarrass us.” Judge slammed his fist on the table for effect, and Sanji’s protests died in his throat, “You are pathetically weak, but you still have the blood of the Vinsmoke name in your veins. You were born to kill. Ichiji. Niji. Figure out how much work he will require.”

Sanji’s heart plummeted in his chest as twin pairs of evil eyes turn their gaze on him.

“Gladly father.”

He was doing this for himself, Sanji frantically reminded himself as a hand came to grab at his collar. He grabbed at it, but Niji was already delivering a bruising punch to his stomach. He was doubled over in seconds. 

He would win. He needed to win.

He swore to himself as a kick came hurtling towards his face. He managed to block it, ducking under and sending a kick of his own to Niji’s exposed side. His brother blocked it at the last second. Sanji’s didn’t have time to block the next punch and he felt the wind rip out of him again. Fuck.

He would win and take that half a million and finally buy himself a dream he could form with his own two hands.

He rolled on the ground, carefully to avoid the kick aimed at his head.

Maybe he’d buy a boat and sail the fuck outta there. Start a restaurant on the ocean and serve up fish from every corner of the world.

He lifted his leg up before sending it crashing down on Ichiji’s shoulder blade. He watched his brothers stand up shakily, both turning to spit blood from their mouths before leveling him with looks of pure hatred.

He’d win and get the fuck out and maybe, just maybe, a certain green-haired fighter would go with him.

***

He didn’t know how he stumbled back to the apartment. He swore he would be going back to his own place, but his feet seemed to have another place in mind. He stood, staring at the plain black door for what felt like hours before sliding down the wall across from it.

He couldn’t go in yet. Not before figuring out a logical explanation for the blood he was about to drip along wooden floors. He watched the red soak through cuts along his legs. He had managed to protect his hands, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep that up.

The next three months would be fucking shit.

It would all be worth it though if he won. It’d have to be.

He reached a shaky hand in his pocket, belatedly remembering the package Reiju had slipped him when he stumbled from the mansion hours later.

_“You will be in pain tomorrow. Hopefully your body hasn’t built up too much of a tolerance with all the poison you’ve been putting in your body. Let me know if you need more.”_

Sanji fingered the fentanyl pills. He hadn’t taken them in a few years. Not since that time he had woken up with three broken ribs and no recollection of how he got them.

“You ok?”

Sanji dropped the pills in surprise.

“Yea.” He muttered numbly, eyes refusing to meet the black ones staring down at him.

“Yea?” It was a question that wasn’t actually much of a question.

“No.”

“Need a hand?”

Sanji looked up and saw a calloused palm reaching down towards him. His heart stuttered in his chest as he clasped the hand tightly and pulled. He watched as Zoro slide down the wall next to him. Calloused fingers gently weaved their way through his. Sanji let himself slump sideways, let his head rest on a strong shoulder. A thumb traced small circled on the back of his hand and he thought vaguely that Robin was right.

“Don’t need this shit.”

He watched numbly as Zoro crushed the tiny orange pills under a black boot.

Sanji didn’t even open his mouth to protest, just buried his head in that sensitive spot between Zoro’s neck and shoulder. He let the familiar smell envelop him, let the stolen warmth seep into his bones. This.

This. He could get addicted to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sanji figuring his shit out finally?  
> Thanks for reading, and for all the lovely and encouraging comments. Let me know what you think!


	5. Survivin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months after making a tentative deal with his father, Sanji is frantically training for the big fights in Dressrosa, Zoro is...being Zoro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changing perspectives and big tsundere energy.   
> Playlist: “Survivin’” by Bastille and “House of Gold” by Twenty One Pilots

**Two months later** ****

It was too fast for Sanji. The passage of time.

It made him restless, made him reckless.

“Hey. Sanji. Heyyy”

“Wha?,” Sanji kept his eyes firmly shut as he let the sweet smell of nicotine distract him from the pain radiating through his body.

“Thought you were gonna quit,” The cigarette was snatched from his mouth and Sanji almost cried.

“Piss off,” His glared up at the black haired boy leaning over him, “I need it today.”

“Nyahhhh,” Luffy stuck his tongue out for a moment, “no you don’t.”

“Just give it to me,” He grabbed at the thinner boys wrist, but the cigarette was already being crushed under a pair of sandaled feet.

“Yosh~,” Luffy nodded like that was the end of it, “Let’s go! This training in secret thing is fun.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Sanji muttered, pushing his aching body to its feet. It had been two months since he asked Luffy and Franky to train him without letting anyone else at the gym know. He was trying to get some supplemental practice in between the brutal training sessions with his siblings. He was figuring out how to hold his own though.

“Can I wear a cool costume too?!” Luffy laughed, pulling at the black face mask and goggles on Sanji’s face, the works _Germa 66_ stitched on his yellow thread.

“It’s so no one recognizes me, idiot,” Sanji batted the prying hands away. He didn’t tell Luffy that they were part of the old villain fighting military regalia he shared with his siblings. 

He kneaded at his tight shoulder muscles. It was a tentative plan he crafted, one he was gaining more and more confidence in. He would fight in the Amateur Fights in the Coliseum at Dressrosa wearing his childhood costume, mask and all. No one from the gym would even recognize him. Take the half a million belli prize and never have to speak to his father again.

Then Zoro would never have to know he almost gambled away the tiny piece of happiness they had clawed out for each other.

The first hints of confidence were shining through. Maybe he _could_ do this, maybe he _could_ win. 

“Still don’t like lying to Zoro though,” Luffy crinkled his nose as he pulled his elbow into a stretch, “doesn’t feel right.”

“I know,” Sanji sighed heavily, “I’m sorry to ask this of you, but it’s important. Zoro…wouldn’t understand.” He finished lamely

“Zoro is soft,” Luffy nodded, “but I’m hard! Let’s get back to work.”

“Never say that in public,” Sanji muttered, but let his arm be dragged by the boy. He was about to pull his gloves back on when he heard a faint ping.

 **Dumbass Marimo (12:15):** At the store. Need anything?

 **Idiot Ero-Cook (12:16):** If you want me to make onigiri tomorrow pick up a jar pickled plumbs. Hope you kept tomorrow free.

 **Dumbass Marimo (13:18):** Yea?

 **Dumbass Marimo (13:18):** Already got it. Got tuna and that spicy shit too.

Sanji smiled to himself. Moss head remembered his favorite filling. How positively domestic.

His phone vibrated in his hand, and Nami’s face flashed across his screen, tongue sticking out.

“How’s my fair goddess today.” His tone was saccharine when he answered.

“Ready to get littyyyy tonight. There’s a new bar that opened, _Loguetown_? Apparently they do have a beer chugging contest. That 500 belli prize is mine.” Nami practically cackled.

“Can’t” Sanji sighed, feigning disappointment. As much as he loved watching grown men pass out drunk trying to keep up with the red headed, he really hated beer, “made plans with the moss head.”

“Bring him along!” Nami’s voice took on a maniacal tone, “we still need to break our tie. If you really cared about me, you would slip some weed in his dinner.”

“As scintillating as that sounds, tomorrows an important day,” Sanji couldn’t help the small snort imagining Zoro high. The man was already a brainless eating machine. Maybe it would do the opposite, turn him into a functioning, doting lover.

An idea he tucked away for later.

“Oh?”

“It’s the one year anniversary of when we started fucking.”

The was a beat of silence on the other end of the phone.

“I thought you guys have been doing it for longer?” Nami said slowly, clearly still counting back in her brain.

“Yea, but it’s been a year since we started fucking exclusively!” Sanji retorted, hands itching to pull at the cigarette he could see peeking out the top of his bag.

“Oh right…did you ever tell Zoro that?” Nami coughed gently, “that you like…weren’t? For a bit?” Sanji’s hand stilled, cigarette dangling loosely from his outstretched fingers. His eyes widened in realization.

“Oh shit.”

“Yeaaaa,” Nami sighed, “Like, live your truth babes. But maybe keep that little detail out of it. Just have a nice dinner for no reason? It’s very in vogue. Keeps the relationship fresh and all that dumb shit.” 

“I mean. I was going to go to fish markets tomorrow at the ass crack of dawn anyway to get his favorite fish,” Sanji contemplated out loud, “but only cause it goes well with that white wine I swiped from that wedding we catered the other day. ”

“Ugh, enough,” he could hear Nami’s eye roll over the phone, “let me know when you’re ready to numb your emotions with booze again.”

“Always,” Sanji was about to hang out when Nami continued.

“I’m proud of you, Sanj. I hope you know that.”

“I’m proud of me too. I had to smuggle that wine bottle out between my ass cheeks.” He gave a put out sigh, but a smile tugged at his lips, soft warmth melted across his chest.

“Bye dumbass.” She huffed.

“Bye, radiant queen of my vision.” He stared at the blank screen for a moment. It turned out he had so much more to lose than he ever could have guessed when he made that stupid deal with his father.

“Luffy,” He called to the black haired boy stealing pieces of peeled fruit from Chopper's bag, “let’s go another round.”

He was mopping the sweat off his face when he checked his phone again. His heart dropped in his chest.

 **R (14:02):** Father would like you to come in tomorrow morning.

 **S (14:02):** Tell him I’m taking tomorrow off, I got plans.

 **R (14:03):** There is only a few weeks before the fight. Big Mom has graciously sent a trainer to help you.

 **S (14:03):** What’s the catch?

 **R(14:05):** No catch, brother. Big Mom simply finds your attempt amusing.

 **S (14:06):** then she can go fuck herself. I’ll be in Tuesday afternoon as usual.

 **R (14:07):** 7:30am tomorrow. Do not be late.

 **S (14:07):** Fuck off.

He shoved the phone back in his bag with a grimace.

“LUFFY,” he yelled at the black haired boy stuffing his face with homemade granola bars, “let’s go another round.” He pulled the gloved tighter than he meant. No way was he fucking missing tomorrow with Zoro. It was important in a way he couldn’t verbalize. He didn’t need any more reason to stay, he had it every time he opened his eyes and soft green hair lay splayed out on the pillow next to him. Could he trust it though? Could he trust that it was all worth it.

When he got home that night, Zoro was still up, staring at his laptop screen.

“Watching that fight again?” Sanji collapsed onto the couch next to the stoic man.

“Yea. Fighting Apoo in the undergrounds next week. He’s a tricky bastard,” Zoro shifted, before pointing to the screen, “See how he’s dodging Drake’s straight punch. He throws a hook and then darts away. He’s got a tell though, always hums when he’s about to move. Hard to hear over the crowd noises.”

“If only you put such an analytical brain to better use.” Sanji sighed, shoving his cold feet under Zoro’s ass, “might actually have a future that doesn’t include _more_ brain damage.”

“I made my choice, you’re the one who stuck around, ” Zoro snorted, but kept his eyes on the screen.

“Wasn’t asking you to change, marimo,” Sanji rolled his eyes. He aimlessly picked at a hole in Zoro’s raggedly old workout shirt, “you need a new shirt.”

“Wasn’t asking me to change, huh?” Zoro finally shot him a side look. He hooked his arm around Sanji’s waist, pulling the blonde closer, “Why’d you ask me about tomorrow?”

Sanji felt a soft sigh flutter through him as calloused fingers absentmindedly moved back and forth over his ribs.He let his head rest on Zoro’s shoulder for a moment as he contemplated his answer.

Ok. How to hint that tomorrow might be important to him without actually saying it. He had spent all evening at the restaurant preparing a few excuses. Even practiced a few scenarios.

Sanji would be all demure and shit, saying he had to skip out on making breakfast and meal prep because of a super important thing. Zoro would be distraught, beg him to stay because he was a helpless mess in the kitchen. But no, Sanji would hold strong. Zoro would try to coerce him, but no, Sanji wouldn’t give in. Maybe if Zoro did that thing where he grabbed Sanji’s neck and-

Fuck. He was getting hard already. He stifled the excited thrill as he shifted on the couch to stare at the swordsman.

“So, I gotta leave early tomorrow morning,” Sanji said in a rush, “you’re on your own cooking breakfast and shit.” 

“Sure.”

Sanji blinked for a moment, “sure?”

“Yea,” Zoro sniffed, eyes still glued on the screen, “do what you gotta do.”

“Oh,” Sanji shifted uncomfortably for a moment, “I…yea” he finished lamely.

The sat like that a moment longer, the noise of the announcer and the eery ring of skin hitting skin covering their silence.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me where I’m going?” Sanji ventured, picking at the t-shirt again.

“If you don’t wanna tell me, you don’t have to tell me,” Zoro grunted, concentration still lining his face, “Not my business.”

“Oh. Yea.” Sanji sat there for a moment.

Well damn. He didn’t expect more, he just…

A ping on his phone broke him from his thoughts.

 **R (23:45):** Father is outside your apartment, I suggest going out to meet him before he goes to find you.

“Shit,” Sanji muttered, practically falling off the couch in his mad scramble to the door.

“You ok?”

“Fine,” he yelled, throwing on his shoes. Anxiety pulled at his limbs like a weight, “be right back.”

He flew down the emergency staircase, barreled through the front door. When he finally stopped, he was panting light, heart stuttering in his chest as he took in the sight of the sleek black car in front of him.

The passenger doors opened and out stepped his father and a man two times his father’s size. Close cropped hair and an evil smile, Sanji almost took a step back as the two men advanced on him.

“Your sister notified you I see. It was so kind of you to come see us at this late hour,” the sour grimace on his fathers face said just the opposite, “this is Daifuku Charlotte, one of Big Mom’s sons and previous champion of the Amateur fights in Dressrosa. He has agreed to help train you. I have assured him that what you lack in talent, you make up for in training.”

“Nice too meet you,” Daifuku rubbed his stomach for a moment before extending his hand, “an honor to meet a fellow assassin.” Sanji gingerly extended his hand, letting it be given a too vigorous shake.

“I don’t know what bullshit my father’s been telling yo- oof,” Sanji doubled over as a knee rammed into his stomach. The man was fast. Sanji tried to jump back, but his hand was still trapped in the larger man’s. He winced as the fist tightened around his.

He kicked his leg out, managing to land a roundhouse to the man’s exposed side, but Daifuku just laughed.

“A strong kick,” he nodded before sending another knee to Sanji’s stomach. Followed by another. Large hands wrapped around his neck, locking him in place as Daifuku sent a final knee. Stars burst behind Sanji’s eyes and he was on his ground before he knew it. Bile burned up his esophagus, and he leaned over to retch on the pavement. “I will enjoy this.” The man gave Sanji’s head a derisive pat before heading back to the car.

Judge just looked on, expression impassive.

“Rest up. See you at 7:30am tomorrow.” He gave the top of the car a tap before following the giant man. Tires peeled away as soon as the door was closed.

Sanji couldn’t breath for a few minutes. All these month training with his brothers, Luffy. And for what. Fingers scrabbled a the pavement underneath him.

He was delusional thinking he could win.

When he got back to the apartment, Zoro was still on the couch watching the fight. At the sound of the soft click, his gaze shot up, frown pulling at his lips as he took in the sight of the cook.

“What was that about?” He grunted.

“Nothing, stupid marimo,” Sanji stumbled over to the bed, pain radiating from his still sore stomach. He barely kicked off his shoes before crawling under the covers.

“Hey,” the voice followed him to the bed “what happened.” Sanji just threw the comforter over his head, blocking the intense eyes staring down at him.

“Fell down the stairs.” He held his breath until he heard the tell tale stomp of feet heading back towards the couch.

He didn’t know what to tell Zoro. A small, angry part of him wondered if the idiot green haired fighter would even care.

***

Zoro’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of a soft click.

A frown tugged at his lips when he ran a hand over the still warm pillow next to him.

Cook left like he said he would.

Well shit.

A low rumble rang through the apartment.

Zoro was hungry.

Not that Sanji needed to cook or anything. They could order take out breakfast, lunch and dinner for all he gave a shit.

But don’t let a guy glimpse paradise, then take it away. Zoro’s mouth started watering thinking about the fluffy egg dish over rice Sanji usually whipped him off for breakfast.He looked at the kitchen for a moment. It was cleaner than it had been when he moved in, Sanji made sure of that. Now there was a brand new knife block sitting on the counter next to the espresso machine Law bought them as a “congrats on fucking like adults” present.

Espresso and a protein bar for breakfast. He could do that.

Zoro let out a yawn before padding over. 

Cook had been strange when he came back to the apartment last night, plus with that weird limp. The man might act like an idiot when he and Nami got obliterated, but he’d never tripped down stairs before. Even that time he was coked out and wanted to try on Nami’s 4’ heels.

Zoro didn’t think too hard about it as sipped the black nectar of the gods.

Sanji’d tell him if he wanted. Or not.

Not his fucking business.

As long as the chef fell back into bed every night, he was ok.

Zoro had plenty of his own shit to do anyway.

The fight in Dressrosa was a few weeks away, and he was switching up his training partners. Killer was a monster and he needed to have all his mental facilities to deal with the blonde bastard. 

Plenty busy, all was good.

Except Sanji didn’t come home that day.

Zoro’s eyes fluttered open the next morning, hand instinctively brushing over a cold pillow.

Huh.

He reached over and checked his phone. Dead.

Sanji always makes sure it was plugged in.

He shuffled over to the espresso machine, but it was out of beans and he didn’t have a clue how to refill it. Then he nearly tripped on the shirt that was still laying on the floor where he tore it off last night.

He stood there for a minute, panting slightly, trying to remember what his life was like before the blonde sidled into it.

Whatever. All good.

He haphazardly pulled on some sweatpants and a shirt. He’d just drop by that little coffee shop the cook dragged him to. It was just down the street from his gym. Easy. He didn’t need the maps on his dead weight of a phone like Sanji was always heckling him about.

He smirked, finishing up the laces on his sneakers.

He was fine.

Fine.

Sweat dripped down his forehead despite the freezing temperatures. He stared at the docked fishing vessels.

“Could have sworn it was around here,” he muttered, eyes narrowing on one of the larger vessels, a bright red sun painted on the hull.

“Zoro!” A familiar voice pulled his gaze up. A gigantic mountain of a man waved at him from the deck, his black hair pulled into a half bun.

“Jinbe!” He smiled widely as the ex-fighter made his way down the gangplank, “what are you doing here? Stopping by the gym?” Jinbe was one of the first people to bring mixed martial arts to the island. He retired after a nearly undefeated run to take over his family fishing business. He had helped train almost every fighter that came through the The Thousand Sunny gym.

“The gym?” Jinbe looked puzzled for a moment, lips stretching to show two pronounced bottom teeth, “That’s on the other side of the island.”

“No its not,” Zoro said firmly. He had walked straight and turned left like he did every day. Jinbe just answered with a loud laugh.

“I was going to stop by anyway, give me a moment and we’ll walk over together,” Jinbe waved as he disappeared below deck. He reemerged smiling, a cap over his head, “I heard about your fierce new fighter, I’ve been meaning to meet him. Franky says he’s extraordinarily well trained, just a little rusty.”

“Huh?” Zoro pulled his gaze from the circling seagulls, “Usopp? Wouldn’t exactly call him fierce…”

“No, no. Franky said he was an erm…?” Jinbe coughed politely, “friend of yours?Blonde? Favors kicks? Curly eyebrows?”

Zoro turned a wide eyed gaze to the former fighter.

“The cook is training at the gym?!” He gaped.

“Franky did mention the young man was a chef. He is very particular about his hands, I hear.” Jinbe nodded, adjusting the heavy wool coat draped around his shoulders, “a difficult feat, but I hear he is pulling it off with great ease. I was anxious to meet him.”

“Huh” Zoro muttered in surprise.

He said he didn’t give a shit about what the cook did, but training at his own gym? And not telling him?

Weird, but…whatever.

An hour later, he was sparring with Killer. He managed to bob under the mans right hook, but the knee caught him harshly across the chin.

“Damn,” Zoro jumped back, rubbing at his cheek.

“You ok, dude?” Franky called from the side of the octagon.

“Fine,” Zoro brought his hands back up in front of his face, “again.”

He ducked under the hook, and managed to land a punch to the larger mans ribs. He was going in for a tackle, when a elbow bit into his collarbone. He grit his teeth against the sharp pain, breathing through it for a moment before finishing the take-down. They scrabbled on the floor for a moment before Zoro was able to cinch an arm bar. He felt the hard tap of submission against his back not even a minute later.

“Sloppy,” Franky called out again, as the two fighters separated “What’s going on, Zoro-bro?”

“It’s nothing.” Zoro grunted as he helped Killer up from the mat.

“You sure? You’re not usually this distracted.” Franky motioned him over. Zoro scratched at his forehead in frustration, but made his way over.

“Why didn’t you tell me the cook was training here?” He crouched down to meet the blue haired mans gaze.

“Wha?” Franky looked shocked for a moment, “thought you knew! He was here so late last night, he fell asleep on the mat, poor guy.”

“He comes in at night?” Zoro was puzzled.

“No…not usually. Usually comes in the early afternoon. He stumbled in last night for some extra training he said,” Franky looked thoughtful for a moment, “Sorry bro, really. He asked to train with Luffy, but I thought that was cause of that old saying you know, ‘don’t try to teach your partners new things.’ I tried to show Robin how to change a tire. WOW, bad idea. She almost snapped my neck with the wrench.”

“It’s fine, dude,” Zoro grunted, “just don’t know why he didn’t tell me. And why Luffy?”

“Maybe they’re fucking?” Killer’s monotone voice floated from behind him.

“Luffy couldn’t find his dick if you painted arrows on his body,” Zoro retorted sharply.

“Ironic,” Killer mumbled on an exhale before exiting the octagon.

“No way.” Zoro shook his head, looking back at Franky, “Whatever. It’s fine.”

“Totally, totally, bro. I’m sure he’s got his reason.” Franky nodded encouragingly, “It’s only been what? Two months?”

Two months? He’s been training at the gym for two months and Zoro hadn’t noticed?

What the hell.

An hour later he ate a protein bar from the old stash in his locker. It tasted like cardboard sprinkled with wood-chips. Zoro wasn’t much of a deep thinker, tended to stick to the path he chose and that was correct because it was what he chose. Easy.

But to have the cook lie to him like that? Had Zoro done something wrong?

The thought sat uneasy on his chest. 

He was spotting Kid on weights when he caught a familiar flash of gold in his periphery.

His head shot up, waiting for a ‘hello’ that never came. The cook had dropped his bag on the bench as he went to greet the black haired woman leaving the front office.

“Robin-san, you’re looking radiant as always,” Sanji smiled brightly at the woman. He was wearing training shorts and a raggedy Baratie t-shirt, sweat plastering his blonde hair to his forehead. Zoro had only ever seen the cook in a suit or ass naked. There was something about seeing the usually pristine chef looking so disheveled though.

Zoro was now pissed off AND uncomfortably horny.

“Sanji-kun, what happened to your face?” Robin’s voice was laced with concern.

Zoro took a step forward, eyes widening when he noticed the livid purple and red bruise ringing Sanji’s left eye.

“Ah, nothing,” the cook stepped back slightly, hastily pulling the blonde hair over his forehead, “It was good to see you, Robin-san.” He pointedly avoided Zoro’s gaze as he darted towards the door.

Zoro felt a rage tear through him.

No fucking way Luffy would have punched him hard enough to leave a bruise like that.

“Hey ero-cook,” Zoro cleared his throat harshly, “you forgot your bag.”

“Fuck off, marimo,” Sanji bit out, still avoiding his gaze. He waved his middle finger as he doubled back to snatch his bag off the bench, before pushing out the double door.

“Nothing could make me put up with that shit, man,” Kid grunted under the heavy weights, “What? His tongue vibrate when you slip a quarter in his ass or something?”

Put up with the cook?

Huh.

Zoro’s mind abruptly thought of the soft smile the cook gave him, in the early hours of the morning when they both fell back sweaty on the bed.

Or the way Sanji’s fingers would slide over bed sheets afterwards to intertwine through his.

Or the way Sanjji had started brushing his lips over Zoro’s in the morning. A quiet, gentle thing, when he thought the fighter was still asleep . 

He never wanted to let that go.

Sanji would tell him what the fuck was going on when he was ready.

He had to trust whatever small thing they built together.

Zoro thought about it all for a moment longer before shrugging. “He’s got a _nice_ ass.”

“Fair,” Kid grinned.

He’d wait till the cook told him.

Then he’d rip the face off whoever gave him that bruise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all highly ironic because we know that Sanji is FAR nicer than Law. 
> 
> Thanks for all your encouraging comments and kudos, always love hearing what you think!


End file.
